#and 'you need to ask before hugging a friend'

[jackrrabbot]

fidus achates

dbf!jack abbot x fem!reader

word count ~12.2k (sorry guys, omg)

content warnings/description: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, AFAB reader, age gap (jack is early forties and in the military, reader is mid-twenties), dry humping, phone sex, filming, hurt/comfort, single internal thought of jack wanting to knock reader up, camping inaccuracies

author's note: santos and garcia exist in this story even though it's before jack is even a doctor at PTMC. just go with it! enjoy :)

masterlist

you and jack take a short camping trip together without the watchful eyes of your father. this is the catalyst.

“Make sure Jack watches over you. I don’t need you getting eaten by a bear. Sacrifice him, if you—”

Your phone’s speaker crackles and your dad cuts out, but you get the gist of what he’s trying to say.

“Dad.” You chuckle. “We’re going to be fine. Promise. It’s a short trip—we’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. I really wish you could’ve come along, though.” You pout, even though he can’t see you over the phone.

“I know, honey. But one of our military buddies—you know him, Thomas—really needs a helping hand right now. Someone’s got to be there for him, and both Jack and I can’t be away camping. It’s better that he goes so you can spend some time with him. When is he deploying again?”

“Almost right after we come back, I think within a day or two.”

“Yeah, see—I would’ve asked to reschedule the trip, but he’s going to be gone for another who-knows-how-long. You’ll have to go without me, honey.”

You sigh. “I know. It’s just always been our tradition, you know? But, you’re right, it won’t be so bad. Actually, it—... it’ll be good to spend some alone time with Jack. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, just the two of us.” A loose thread on the hem of your jean shorts scratches your thigh, and you pick at it, anxious about seeing him again after so long.

“Are you implying I’m the third wheel? He’s my best friend, you know.”

You groan, “Daaad.”

He laughs heartily into the phone, tickled by your reaction. “I’m just yanking your chain. I know you two get along. You’re closer in age than he and I are, anyway.”

“Only barely. He’s still old enough that he could be my father.” A very young one, but still. “You’re just… way older.”

You don’t need to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Haha, hilarious, honey. But no funny business, alright? Regardless of what you say, I know how you look at him. And it’s not a look that’s appropriate for a daughter to give her dad.”

You gape, affronted by his implication. “W-What are you talking about? Actually… don’t answer that. Jack’s going to be picking me up soon. I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay?” You’ve never wanted to hang up a phone call so fast in your life.

“You better. And remember what I said, alright?”

“Of course. Bye!”

You hang up the phone just as you hear a heavy knock on your apartment door. Leaping from the couch, you rush over to open it, not before taking a deep breath in and out and adjusting your tank top and shorts. 

With an unhooking of the chain and a turn of the knob, you open the door.

Jack stands before you, dressed in an army T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, grinning wide when he sees your face.

He takes in your appearance like a breath of fresh air. It’s been far too long since he last saw you. Life has had her way with him over the past several months after coming back from deployment, and he’s been preoccupied—and unable to make time for you. 

…and your dad.

Now, he’s deploying back overseas in the next two days. This trip—and seeing you again—are the only two things that have been keeping him motivated while he’s been back. Days and days of counting down the clock until he could see you again.

He only wishes he had more time.

“Jack, you’re here,” you whisper, disbelieving he’s right in front of you. He looks… good. Strong. Like he could fold you in half. 

You return his smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug. 

When you two part, he squishes your cheeks with a single hand, puckering your lips. “Sure am, kid. Are you ready?” 

Babbling, you nod and respond, “Lemmejusgrabmybackpack.” He finally lets go of your face, and you both laugh.

“Are you sure you didn’t need me to bring anything else?” you ask.

“Just your pretty self.” He snaps his fingers. “And your cooler. We’ll need that. I’ve got ice in the trunk ready.”

“Oh, right. I nearly forgot. Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Jack grabs your wrist, and you turn to face him with a tilt of your head.

“Invite me in, and I’ll carry everything to the car.” He lets go of your wrist and leans over the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you, a vampire?” You raise a brow, confused. 

“Well, it must be the reason why I still look so good at my ripe old age,” he jokes, but doesn’t budge. He wants—needs—your consent to let him in. To cross the threshold. 

Because, really, he’s not so sure he’ll be able to behave himself around you on this trip. Letting him in now is future insurance just in case he does something against your father’s wishes. It’s not his fault if you give him permission to. 

He’ll try to be a good soldier, though.

He waits with bated breath, heart skipping a beat when you roll your eyes and quip, “Oh, you’re an arrogant one at that. Figures. Come on in then, bloodsucker. You can bite me as repayment for carrying my things.” You wink, gesturing for him to come inside.

“Don’t tempt me.”

The car ride to Raccoon Creek is only forty-five minutes long, and while you’re normally antsy during drives longer than your own commute to work—which is only a five-minute walk away from your apartment—you feel relaxed with Jack behind the wheel.

You hate driving, but he makes it look easy. His right hand is on the steering wheel, making a smooth turn down the winding road leading to the park, while the other casually hangs out the window.

Jack begrudgingly let you plug in your phone to listen to your playlist the entire way, complaining about the state that modern-day music is in.

Whatever, old man. Good music definitely still exists.

You’re about twenty minutes away from the park and too excited for your own good. Your knees bounce in sync with the music, the water in your bottle sloshing with every movement as it sits between your legs.

Jack sees you shaking out of the corner of his eye. “Calm down, kid. It feels like an earthquake in here.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited. I always loved going camping as a kid. It’s usually a tradition I share with my dad, but… it’ll be fun to share it with you now, too.” You look over at him with a grin.

Jack’s fingers twitch against the wheel. You’re too sweet on him.

“I’m excited too, angel. But let’s keep the shaking to a minimum, okay?” With his eyes still looking forward, Jack takes the water bottle from your lap and places it into the cup holder. Then his rough palm greets your knee and squeezes, grounding you. 

His hand lingers—thumb brushing over the soft, moisturized skin—but then pulls back a beat too late. And you notice. But you don’t do anything. Because your mutual attraction may be all in your head—key word, mutual—and you’re a good girl.

And good girls listen to their dad’s rules. Even if you’re sitting in the car alone with temptation itself.

You fan yourself lightly to stop yourself from overheating and point to the GPS. “We still have a little bit farther to go. I’m gonna take a quick nap. Wake me when we’re there?” You lean toward the open window and take in the cool breeze and the scent of the crisp summer air that passes by.

“Will do. Get some rest.”

You sit in the car, bleary-eyed and yawning, as Jack takes a second to check in at the park kiosk. He could’ve just checked in online but was too confused by the website and too stubborn to do it any other way than the old-fashioned one. 

It’s too late now anyway. You’re already here.

A few minutes later, Jack comes up to your passenger seat window, crossing his corded, veiny forearms over the edge. You almost reach out and squeeze but stop yourself.

“Alright. We’re good to go. You wanna take a second to use the restroom? Get some snacks? The only other thing we’ll be eating today is whatever we catch.”

You shake your head. “I’m good on the bathroom, and I brought snacks. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Alright. It’s a few minutes’ drive to where our reservation is.”

“Which is where, exactly? You never really shared the details.”

“You’ll see.”

You hop out of the truck and see the start of the trail leading up to where a walk-in site should be—at least, based on the dusty, barely standing post sign that reads, Walk-In 300 ft. Ahead.

Huh, guess you’ll be a little more isolated. 

Based on the Raccoon Creek map, the loop you’re in is tucked in the outer grounds of the campsite, far away from prying eyes and from the reminder that you’re not alone with only nature.

You don’t mind. 

It’ll be nice to have a real camping experience. A taste of the rugged outdoors. Typically, your dad books a cabin outfitted with power, a kitchen, nice beds, and a bathroom and calls it camping. Says otherwise, it reminds him too much of his time during the service. 

You peer through the window of the truck, looking at Jack on the other side.

Maybe your dad’s logic applies to him too. Maybe this keeps him in it—even while on home leave. You wonder if his days are spent just waiting until he gets deployed again. 

You’re saddened by the thought. You want to fill this very short trip with as much joy as you possibly can before he leaves again.

Did Jack somehow know this is what you wanted? 

Or… is he just sticking with what he’s more comfortable with? Quiet nights, haunted with thoughts for company, and the allure nature brings—even if there’s danger in every corner. Whether that be… bears or enemy combatants.

Maybe you’re overthinking, and he just wants you alone. You turn from the window and look ahead to the trail, a dry laugh escaping your lips.

Nah.

Jack pulls you back to land as you start to drown in your thoughts. He steps around the front of the truck and in front of you. “We’ll probably need to make two trips back and forth to get everything set up. You okay with that, angel?”

“Yeah.” You nod, adamantly. “What do you want me to carry?”

“Take the sleeping bags for now and carry your backpack with you. I’ll take care of the tents and the cooler.”

“Got it!” you say with a salute and a few measured paces to the trunk of his car. He shakes his head at you, lips quirked up and eyes crinkling. You unlatch the trunk and pull out the stuff. 

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” he asks as he joins you, amused by your playfulness.

“Of course… this is my first time actually camping. Not… glamping, like I always do with my dad. I’m glad he ended up letting you do all the booking this time around.”

“It’s a whole different experience. I hope you’ll like it.”

You make space for him to grab the tents and cooler. “I most definitely will. Why hasn’t Dad invited you to our trips before now? We should make this a thing. We can plan it around your deployments.”

“Already thinking about next time?” Jack raises a brow at you. “Let’s see if we survive the night first. C’mon, let’s get our stuff over there.”

Jack tilts his head to the head of the trail, and you walk toward it while he follows closely behind. 

After the second car trip and a quick clearing of the brush covering the gravel pad, you’re ready to set up your home base. 

“So you’ve never pitched a tent before?” Jack asks.

You look at him with wide eyes and a confused expression before you remember where you are. “Oh, you mean—uh, no. Never.”

He shakes his head and smirks. “Stay focused. It’s only the one tent, so we’ll do it together.”

You’re taken aback at this sudden news. “O–Only one tent? Didn’t you say… tents? With an ‘S’?” His eyes follow your pointer finger as it draws the shape of an “S” in the air.

“Did I? My bad.” He shrugs, but he hopes it plays off more nonchalantly than it feels. “It fits two people. When your dad said he wouldn’t be able to join us, I thought it’d be easier. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, not at all. I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’m pretty used to living in close quarters. Sorry, I just assumed you’d be okay with it. Don’t worry, we’ll still be in our own sleeping bags. It’ll be fine for just one night.” He winks and clicks his tongue in an attempt to calm you. It works, slightly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, where do we start?”

“This spot is as good as any. It’s level, and since we cleared everything, nothing should be poking us in our sleep.”

Jack picks up the tarp from the ground. “Next: lay the tarp out. Want to do that while I unfold the tent?” 

You nod as he hands you the tarp, and you toss it out over the gravel. 

Jack unfurls the tent. “Alright, now, take one corner of the tent, and I’ll take the other. Pull it tight and lay it over the tarp.” You take one corner of the tent and walk diagonally from him, following his lead.

“All that’s left to do is assemble the poles, slide them through the sleeves here,” Jack says, bending down and threading his finger through one sleeve and pulling it up, “pin them, and bend them so the tent lifts. After that, I’ll stake it down.”

“Huh, I always thought it was harder to set up a tent. It seems pretty simple, actually.”

“That’s just ‘cause I’m here helping you, kid.”

Jack is just finishing up staking the last corner of the tent when you ask, “So, it’s barely noon. What do you have in mind for the rest of the day?”

“We can do whatever you like. But I was thinking we take a hike down to the lake and catch some fish. How’s that sound?”

“Let’s do it,” you say, picking up your backpack from the dirt and slinging it over your shoulder. “Do we need to put our stuff inside the tent, or can we leave it out?”

Jack smiles up at you. “There’s no one around. We’ll be okay. Let’s go.” He stands, then slings the camp chair bag around his back and holds the cooler and fishing pole in each hand. 

You’re about half a mile into your two-mile hike to the lake when you look back at Jack. He quickly glances up to meet your eyes, glinting with the sunlight and… something else. 

…Was he staring at your ass? 

God, you hope he was. It would make you feel a little less guilty to know he also can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Jack, why are you walking so far behind me? I practically have to yell to make conversation.”

“I want to make sure you’re always in my sight.” 

The logic tracks. Your dad did warn him ahead of time that if anything happened to you, he would kill him. And that’s putting it lightly. But still, he doesn’t have to be so far away from you. 

You stop in your tracks, turn around, and stomp toward him. His lips curl up as he watches you approach, and that just irritates you more. He just loves to get a reaction out of you, doesn’t he? Holding yourself back from chirping at him, you forcefully grab the fishing pole from his hands, and it’s quickly stuffed into your backpack, the red floater bobbing in the air from where the pole sticks out.

You thread your fingers through his now-free hand. 

“There. If you walk right by me, you’ll see me at all times, right?”

Jack glances down at your interlocked fingers and squeezes, just a bit. He most definitely could break your hand if he so chose, but his hold is so light that it tickles across your palm and makes you shiver. You clasp his hand just a bit tighter.

He looks back up at you with the same mischievous look he gave you just moments earlier. “I’ve been walking at your pace, sweetheart. Now, you’ll be the one who needs to keep up.”

For the next ten minutes of your hike, you’re nearly out of breath, only getting a chance to breathe when you stop to point out an interesting bird or some pretty shrubbery.

You turn to Jack, pointing at the brilliant, yellow American Goldfinch with the hand not currently clasped in his, but his eyes are locked on yours. A pout graces your face. 

Is he even paying attention? 

You suppose he’s probably more concerned with making it to the lake—before the sun sets—if you keep up this pace. You lower your hand, looking down, and let go of his with the other.

“Hey, what happened? Come back to me.”

You lift your head back up to him, and he pins you with an intense look. 

“I—I’m probably bugging you, aren’t I? I get it… we can just walk the rest of the way without any interruptions. We’re almost there, right?”

He scoffs, and you think he’s going to make a joke, but then he surprises you when he says, “What, are you kidding? Mother Nature is gorgeous, but you’re the only woman I have my eye on.” He kisses the top of your hand gently, relocks your fingers, and pulls you ahead. “C’mon. Just a little more to go. I’ll try to pay more attention to the birds.” 

Jack only lets your hand go once you reach the lake. 

The water is clear and bright blue, and it dazzles beneath the fiery afternoon sun. You're glad you packed your sunscreen and most obnoxious, gargantuan, floppy sun hat.

You swing your backpack around to your front to pull out the folded-up hat, the fishing pole bumping into your hand as it sits in the way. It feels a bit ridiculous once it’s on your head and you see the size of it as you look down at your shadow, but, whatever.

Jack looks at you, appalled, but otherwise makes no comment. 

Hat on, you both walk in step up to one of the piers that circle the lake. There are a few other visitors, but the piers are far enough apart that it doesn’t matter. It’s an intimate setting and perfect for fishing.

Jack sets down the nylon bag with the camp chair and the cooler on the wooden walkway, while you drop your backpack beside them and take off your hiking shoes and socks, wanting to dip your feet into the water.

You look back at him from the edge of the pier when he’s finally set up the chair and retrieved the fishing pole from your bag.

He meets your eyes and pats the seat. “I only brought one chair. I’ll fish while you sit.” 

You nod, lift your feet from the water, then take a few steps and crash into the chair. The hike wore you out more than you thought it would. You don’t even want to think about how your dad would fare if he were here.

Bending over, you reach for your bag, grabbing the sunscreen. You flip the cap, squirt a healthy amount into your hands, and rub it over your arms, legs, neck, and face. Meanwhile, Jack peels off his shirt and lays it next to him as he sits on the edge of the pier, throwing the line over.

The floater plops into the water, audible thanks to the isolated strip of walkway you’re on. Fishing isn’t really something you ever cared for, but since Jack has a permit, you can live vicariously through him.

“Jack… you need to put on sunscreen. Here.” You stretch your arm out to wave it in his face, but he doesn't take it.

“I’m fishing. Do you mind getting it on my back?”

“W-well, how about the front? You’re facing the sun.”

“If you can reach from behind, you can put it wherever you’d like.”

His voice is so smooth and velvety as he says it, and all you can think is, Jack, you can not be saying things like that.

You get down on wobbly knees and sit directly behind him, squirting some of the sunscreen into your hands and gently lathering it over his back. Your eyes connect the dots of freckles that litter his form, and you’re only more entranced as he rotates his shoulders and neck—as if putting on a show for you—and his muscles ripple beneath your touch. 

As much as you’d like to, you don’t linger too long, and soon you finish applying the cream on his back. Shaky hands apply more on his nape, and you circle them to reach his throat, fingers gliding over his salt-and-pepper-covered jawline. You dot his face, careful to avoid his eyes.

He’s just so pretty and a little too confident about it that it makes your head spin. 

You take in a deep—and hopefully silent—breath. Your hands inch down toward his chest, reaching from over his shoulders while sitting on your knees—your chest pressed tight to his back. 

Jack has to hold in a groan as he feels you nearly grind against him to reach over his shoulders, just so he doesn’t get sunburned. You’re so good to him.

You graze his nipples but move quickly to the surrounding taut pec when he flinches. 

“Getting handsy there, angel? Or should I say, devil?” He tilts his head back to you, giving you a sly wink.

“S-shut up. This is for your own good. You already put your life on the line for work. You don’t need to go belly up from skin cancer, too.”

He hums. “Can’t argue with that.”

You loop your arms through his to smear the cream over what you can’t reach from on top of his shoulders.His abdomen noticeably tenses as you glide your fingers over the sun-kissed skin, and you hold back a smile—happy that your touch can affect him like this.

Your fingers trail down to his navel, and even lower, and Jack has to force himself to stop you.

He gently envelops your wrist and says, through gritted teeth, “I think that’s enough, sweetheart. Thank you. Why don’t you sit back now? It might be a while until something bites.”

You reluctantly pull back and place your palms to his back instead. Pressing your cheek against his shoulder and nodding, you whisper a soft “okay,” as your lips brush against the delicate skin.

He shivers, but you’ve already pulled away. The skin on his forehead wrinkles as he furrows his brows in frustration at the situation. He’s trying, but his control is slipping. Slipped. And now he has to try to find ways to justify each and every time he inevitably gets too close. 

You've been sitting on the chair for the past hour, reading your book, when Jack shouts.

“I think we’ve got something!” Jack quickly stands, wrestling with the supposed creature, then reels in what looks like… a catfish? 

“Oh my God, you got one, Jack!” You stand up in a rush, nearly knocking the chair back into the lake.

He looks smug as he dangles the poor fish in front of you. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

The fish seem to be coming in droves now, and after what feels like only a few minutes, the ice-packed cooler holds several species of gutted fish—a nice haul of walleye, bluegill, and bullhead catfish—right next to the pack of beers. At least they’re packed into Ziploc bags.

Luckily, Jack had his army knife handy. Because of course he would.

He stretches in front of you. “God, my back aches. Can I sit?” he asks, pointing at the chair. 

You nod and go to sit by the pier, but as he walks past you, he pulls you back by the waist. He flips himself around just in time before crashing onto the chair, the fabric sinking and taut under your combined weight. You’re surprised it holds. More surprised that now you’re sitting in his lap like a child on a mall Santa. 

“J-Jack, what are you doing? This thing can’t hold the both of us.” You try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, but his hands only tighten on your waist. 

“It’ll hold. I have only the best, and I don’t want your ass to get sore sitting on the pier. Mine did.”

“Oh, and your lap is more comfortable?”

“I’ve been told it’s very comfortable. But I can flip you over and give you something else to whine about, if that’s what you want.” You open your mouth in shock, giving him an incredulous look.

“A-and why didn’t you bring the other chair?” You push because it’s a logical question, but you also want to know if he wants you to keep his lap warm. 

“It would've been too much to carry—even for me.”

It’s a weak excuse, and one you know isn’t true. Disappointment seeps in, but it bottlenecks as you remind yourself that at least you’re in his lap and at least he wants you there.

You glare at him but otherwise get comfortable, submitting to him a bit too easily. His arms bracket you in from where they now rest on the arms of the chair, and you twist your body, draping your legs over his. 

You press your palm to his chest, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. 

His shirt is still lying on the edge of the pier, damp from the harshly fought battles with the fish, and you swirl your fingers over the small tuft of chest hair trailing down his chest. His dog tags shine a bit too bright in your eyes, and you close them to imagine them as if they were dangling in front of you while lying on your back and taking his cock. 

Oh God, the thoughts are getting worse.

Your face starts to heat, not only from the warm weather but also from the close proximity. You’ve always shared a comfortable companionship, but over the past year or so things have been increasingly… intimate. Not obviously, but a few lingering glances and touches more than normal add up. It’s been over half a decade since you’ve met, and you’ve been attached at the hip since day one. But now you think you’re ready to take the next step in your relationship.

If Jack were to feel the same way, well, it’s something your father would just have to accept. You’re both well into adulthood. You’re mature enough to admit you’re helplessly attracted to him.

But Jack is still Jack. He teases, flirts, and touches you, and it burns you from the inside out—but he’s duty-bound to care for you, and he has to balance the act between a dad’s best friend… and something more. Possibly, something more.

Your eyes flit to the silicone wedding band around his finger, the shiny material reflecting the sun. It’s not new—and not something you try to pay too much attention to—but it triggers a core memory from days past, and you decide to bring it up.

“Hey, remember when we first met at Dad’s fifty-fifth birthday and retirement party?”

“How could I forget? The moment when you first became a pain in my ass.” He smiles down at you. It’s a soft look, endearing and warm from the recollection of the memory.

He jokes, but he remembers that day often—remembers how, even after the ache in his heart following his wife’s passing, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel when he first saw you. A light that was quickly snuffed out when your father introduced you to him as his daughter.

You ignore his statement, instead saying, “I was surprised when he first introduced you. I thought you’d be at least as old as him—not twenty years his junior.” 

“Military bonds know no bounds. He was a good role model. I was sad to see him retire, but he served his time. And he knew he had to get out before you went off to college.”

“I still feel so embarrassed and guilty asking you about your ring. I was so naive and… insensitive.” You cringe at the past you.

“You didn’t know, angel. It had been several years since she passed at that point, and I still had it on. It's not your fault you were curious when I showed up alone.”

A few seconds pass in silence. 

“Do you think… you’ll ever find the person? The person who you might set aside that ring for?” 

Jesus, you did not just ask that. 

You shake your head. “Sorry, don’t answer that. It’s not my place to ask you something like that.” You attempt to hide your face in the crook of his armpit, but your stupid hat makes it difficult.

Jack can’t bear the hope—and anguish—hidden in between your words. He tries to reassure you the best he can without cracking his chest open and giving you his heart.

He tilts your head up to him with his thumb and forefinger, finding your eyes beneath the rim of your hat. “Kid, look at me. You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not grieving anymore. The pain is still there, but it’s better now. I loved her—still have love for her—but I know she wouldn’t want me to stay alone forever. But… I never met anyone else, so why take off the ring? It’s as simple as that.”

You try to free your chin from the press of his fingers, but he doesn’t let you. You finally nod in understanding, and only then does he release you from his grip.

“You speak so fondly of her. What you two shared must’ve been really amazing.”

“It was. We were still so young and free at the time. Maybe I’ll tell you more about her someday.” 

“Okay.” A beat later, you add, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to turn so… melancholy.”

“It’s okay. If there’s one person in the world I want to open up to, it’s you.”

You both lie in the chair in peaceful silence for a few minutes, watching the sun begin its slow descent over the horizon, when Jack starts to doze off. You rest your hand right over his heart, feeling his heartbeat slow and even out. It’s another ten minutes or so before you gently rouse him from his short nap.

“Jack. Jack, maybe we should head back. I’m getting a bit hungry, and the sun’s starting to set,” you say, shaking him awake.

He just groans and stretches his arms before returning his hands to your waist. 

A few harsh blinks and a shake of his head later, he says, “Okay. Vámonos.”

Jack is setting up the swing-over grill and the firewood while you season what you can of the fish. Luckily, you knew beforehand to bring a few packets of salt and pepper. 

Unlike Jack—who’s willing to risk his health eating the fish raw and unseasoned like he’s on Survivor—you refuse to go without any seasoning. The fish isn’t complete without a sprinkle of smoked paprika, garlic, and onion powder, but it’ll have to do.

You admire how the flickering flames lick across his skin, giving him a warm glow, and his ability to withstand them as he lays the fish across the grill. 

The thought is dramatic, but it’s as if he’d suffer through a little bit of fire to feed you. Nourish you. Take care of you. If only he could brave the paternal firestorm to admit what you’ve already admitted to yourself.

As the nose-wrinkling, fishy smell of the walleye and bluefish morphs into a delicious, woody, salty sea scent, your mouth starts to water. You hand Jack a paper plate, and he serves you up some of the fish as soon as it’s ready.

After squeezing a bit of lemon, you pinch a piece off the malleable flesh and take a bite, moaning lightly at the small taste of heaven. It has a robust, earthy flavor, enhanced by the acidity and the salt and pepper.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack stares, unwilling to draw his gaze from you, even to take a bite from his own plate. He feels an overwhelming pride swell in his chest, knowing that you enjoy something as simple as the fish he grilled for you. He’d do this for you again and again, if only to hear your sweet moans of satisfaction—like music to his ears, looping forever.

Even if they’re only for his food.

You continue to eat, a few hours passing by in casual conversation, and after a few shared sips of the beer he popped open, you’re ready to turn in for the night.

“Jack, thank you for dinner. It was fantastic.” You beam at him from across the dying campfire as he sits in the other camp chair. You yawn, stretching your arms over your head, your top riding up. 

Jack watches as the material lifts, exposing your skin.

“I think I’m ready to head to sleep. Are you coming in soon?”

He nods. “Yeah. I just want to watch the stars for a bit longer. I won’t take too long. Meet you in my dreams, angel.”

“Meet you there.”

You discard your paper plate into a trash bag, then rifle through your backpack, grabbing your nightwear before unzipping the tent and heading in. Plopping down onto your sleeping bag, you quickly change out of your dirt-caked and sweaty clothes and into a pair of flimsy sleeping shorts and a tank top.

You’re barely conscious when Jack comes in only a few minutes later, already stripped down to his boxers as the moonlight from the open flap in the tent pours in.

Though it’s dark, and you're halfway to falling asleep, you can still see the outline of his cock through the thin material, soft against his thigh. Your body forces you awake, eyes nearly glazed over and face growing warm, but you dig your fingers into your thighs to keep you calm.

It’s stupidly hot. Scorching. Both because of the cramped space—thanks to the single tent—and the heat of the night air. You try to wait out your discomfort, hoping Mr. Sandman drags you to his realm soon, but maybe you’ve outgrown that. 

Addressing the problem head-on is best.

“Jack,” you whisper. He turns his head to you as he settles inside his bag.

“Thought you were asleep. Did I wake you?” he whispers back.

You’re not quite sure why you’re whispering. There’s no one around for miles. 

“No, I’ve just been tossing and turning all this time. I’m really working up a sweat. Do you mind if I—… if I just sleep over my bag? I know it’s cramped in here—”

“—No problem at all. Don’t want you sweating all night. You’ll get dehydrated.”

You hesitate but unzip your bag—after a few seconds of sheer panic that you can’t locate the zipper—and escape the sweltering insulation.

Of course he’d bring his standard-issue mummy sleeping bags. You probably should’ve brought your own.

It’s a bit darker in the tent now that the campfire has completely died out, and you can’t tell if Jack is looking at you or has his eyes closed. Only his silhouette is visible from the moon and starlight pouring in—his head tilted in your direction and his arms out, mummy bag not fully zipped yet.

You let a breath escape you, your body finally cooling down. The sweat from the heat dries, but now a nervous one takes its place, your emotions working overtime.

Reflecting on today, this is the most touchy, feely, and cozied up together you two have ever been. And it hurts because you don’t know when the next time you’ll be alone together like this will be. During Jack’s brief stints, while he’s waiting to be deployed, you mostly hang out with him alongside your dad. Or, if alone, somewhere in public or with their other military buddies. 

There’s always someone watching. 

Someone who would judge the girl with a schoolgirl crush on her older, widowed, and too-handsome dad’s best friend.

With an ache in your heart from how close yet far you are, you finally settle against the sleeping bag and try to fall asleep again.

What you don’t expect is for Jack to reach for you, pulling your hips into his so you’re chest to chest.

“Jack—Jack, what are you doing?”

“You’re not zipped in, and I realize you might knock me upside the head if you toss and turn in your sleep. It’s better if I keep you restrained like this. For my own safety.”

“But… doesn’t this defeat the purpose? I’m going to get hot while tucked into you.” Your heart can’t take this anymore. 

“Hm… I guess you’re right.” 

Jack's fingers play with the hem of your tank, and you can feel them slip underneath, his warm, calloused hand pressed to your lower back.

His voice is gruff. “Take it off. The top and shorts. I won’t be able to see anything in the dark.” 

You plead, “J-Jack—”

“—It’s okay. I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.” His hand slowly moves from your lower back to snap the elastic of your straps against your skin, urging you to listen to him. 

“Do it.”

He’s so persistent about it you can’t help but give in. This is only the most logical solution to your problem, after all.

You peel your tank off, nipples peaked as the fabric runs over them, and you instinctively know Jack is watching. 

Gentleman, my ass.

The shorts are discarded at the head of the tent next, your underwear the only thing keeping you modest. You return to his chest and settle against him, the cool material of his dog tags stunning you for a second. You’re only too hyper aware of your peaked nipples rubbing against his skin as he wraps his arms around you again. 

Oh, what he wouldn’t do to get a mouthful of them. But there’s not really a valid reason for that, is there?

After a few heart-pounding seconds of silence, Jack speaks up, “I couldn’t see much, angel. But I don’t have to to know that you’re beautiful. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about this, okay? I just want you to have the best sleep you can. We’ll be leaving pretty early tomorrow.”

You only nod, your face pressed into his armpit and inhaling his heady scent. You fall asleep quickly now.

As you stir, awoken by the alarm on your phone, you see Jack, already awake, leaning over you with an elbow propped up. A soft smile plays on his lips. You’re still drowsy from sleep but feel wide awake the moment you realize the state you’re in. Your breasts are exposed, visible due to the early morning light filtering in through the tent. 

But that isn’t the worst part.

Your legs are tangled with Jack’s, your underwear is soaked, and your core is flush against his thigh. You realize, with shame, you must’ve been grinding on him in your sleep. 

He too must have unzipped himself the rest of the way down overnight, and your body took advantage of it.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of your head, reaching for your top scrunched at the head of the tent. You quickly rise from where you're sprawled on the tent floor, snatching it from his hand and putting it on.

“Jack, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” you stutter, trying to move your legs from where they’re straddled between Jack’s, but he keeps you still with a firm hold on your waist.

“It’s alright. It was bound to happen with us being closed in and all.” He moves his hand from your waist to rub circles into your upper thigh, then pinches the soft flesh. Let’s see if he can get away with this one. “I want you to keep going. Take what you need.” 

“What?” You look down at him with a shocked expression, his nonchalance only exacerbated as he chuckles lightly into his fist, elbow still propped.

His serious eyes meet your owlish ones, and you gulp. 

“I said what I said.”

You’re flustered, tripping over your words, and Jack uses the opportunity to pull you back onto his chest and lie you both down again.

He waits. Waits for you to tell him that this isn’t right, that you can both forget this happened and move on. But he wants you to take advantage of him. He’s giving himself to you, even if you don’t realize it yet.

You’re both still for a few seconds, waiting for the other to do something. Say something. You decide to make the first move.

What’s a little more humiliation? Jack’s already seen your tits and felt your wet panties glide over his muscled thigh. And… he seemed to enjoy it. That’s all the liquid courage you need to do what you do next.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his nape, pulling at the soft, graying curls, and resume the slow grind of your cunt over his thigh.

He just lies there, letting you use him, and watches you undulate on him like you’re the most precious thing in the world. And maybe—based on the way his breath hitches as you moan, and he relishes the overstimulated tears that drip onto his neck—you are. 

Your clit twitches, but you whine in frustration, not yet close. He decides to help you instead of being a willing bystander and grabs your hips to press you harder against his thigh, desperately guiding you up and down to give you the friction you need. 

“Waitwaitwait—Jack, it’s too—too rough, p-please.” 

Please don’t stop.

“Just give it to me. You can.”

Jack sweats as your hot pants collect in the crook of his neck, holding himself back from ripping off your underwear and taking you right here. If this is as close as he can get without crossing the proverbial line, he’ll take it.

You buck more wildly, sloppily against him as your orgasm fast approaches, and he gives you a final push—harshly spanking you, then gripping and spreading the fat of your ass to help you reach your climax. He’s basically doing all the work now, shifting you up and down so fast that your orgasm barrels toward you without remorse.

A gasp escapes you, one delirious with need—the sting of the spank and the relief of his warm, demanding touch, massaging and gripping your cheeks, finally hurling you over the edge. You come with a cry, muffled against his shoulder as you bite down.

Whispers of praise tumble from Jack’s lips, choked out, as he grapples with the ego boost of you coming on his thigh and the pretty mark you left for him on his shoulder. You’re so out of it, you don’t register his quiet confessions. 

“So, so pretty.” 

“You did so good, kid.”

“I wish… we could be like this all the time.” He kisses your sweaty forehead after that last one.

You lie still against him in the afterglow of your orgasm for a few seconds—catching your breath, reeling yourself back to reality—when you notice he’s hard, his cock twitching against his upper thigh and a wet spot forming on his boxers.

You reach delicate hands over to touch him through the fabric, but he stops you, fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“We need to leave soon. Why don’t we break down the tent now?”

A frown tugs at your lips. “B-but… what about you?”

“Nothing about me. It’s just a natural reaction to us being cramped in here, that’s all. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Let me—”

“—I told your dad I’d take care of you. You needed to get off. I helped you. That’s it.” 

You’re taken aback, mouth open but left speechless. A mix of shame, guilt, and despair swirls inside you—his flippant tone adding heavy droplets of anger to the mix. 

Is he fucking serious?

You feel cheap. Used. This is the moment you finally feel brave enough to do something to push past the boundaries of your relationship, and he shuts it down. 

It dawns on you what he’s doing. He wants this—you—too. His actions over the past twenty-four hours have betrayed him, revealing what you’ve always hoped to be true. That he feels an irrevocable attraction toward you. And your excitement is quickly shut down when you realize he’s not going to do anything more about it than hide behind lame excuses. If he’s going to deny you like this… well, maybe it’s time to move on. You’re done waiting for him.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Tears sting your eyes as you quickly push yourself off him, grabbing your shorts and rushing out of the tent.

Jack watches you leave, pain wracking his chest. He shouldn’t have been so indifferent. So clinical. His no-frills dismissal of the reciprocation you wanted to give—ah, you’re too fucking doting on him. But his job is to protect. To serve. To obey. Giving himself to you has never been part of the equation… as much as he’d like to. 

He knows he fucked up.

Bringing you out here, to the far, isolated loop of the park, was his chance to feel closer to you. You managed to worm your way into his poorly fortified defenses—out in the call of the wild, where he’s usually alone with nightmares from time wasted and lives lost—and he took advantage of his own weakness for you.

But what’s he to do to course-correct? You two aren’t meant to be.

And so, even with a disgusting guilt and for a short while, he feels satiated by what little he could offer you, even if he can’t offer himself.

You’ll get over it.

The car ride home is silent, with only the sound of the wind whipping into your face to quell your frenetic thoughts. He looks over at you leaning on the window, disturbed by the quiet. Even if he doesn’t enjoy your music, he always wants to hear you. Always. 

Once home, he walks you to the door of your apartment, your name leaving his lips before you can close the door in his face.

“I know you’re upset with me. You have every right to be. But… I had a really great time. I’ll miss you. Give your dad a hello and a goodbye for me, okay, kid?”

You look back at him, sighing. It’s not fair that he has to leave tomorrow. You want more time to stew and act like a petulant child. But instead, you drop your cooler to the ground and give him a warm—but respectful—hug. 

“I had a good time too, Jack. Stay safe overseas.” 

He stands stock-still, surprised you responded in kind, but returns your hug. “I’m thinking of you. Remember that.” He cradles your cheek, wipes away an eyelash, and then heads into the elevator.

As you watch him leave, you’re left wondering what the fuck you’ll do now.

“Why couldn’t he come again? You’re really bringing the vibe down, sourpuss,” Yolanda asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You’re currently sitting opposite Yolanda and Trinity in a cozy booth in the far corner of a bar, with your hands stretched out and head sideways on the table. You groan.

“He has some finance-bro presentation for work tomorrow. He won’t be able to hang out tonight. But fuck him, right, ladies? Tonight’s girl’s—” You glance up and see them making out, not ignoring you, but too wrapped up in each other for your voice to reach them. While you’re glad to have accepted their invitation to hang out—after not seeing them for a while—you had hoped that your recent fling would be here with you to make this less of a third-wheel situation. 

You met him on a dating app—he’s cute, gentlemanly enough, and decent in bed. He buys you nice gifts sometimes, too.

Trinity breaks the kiss, needing air, and turns back to you. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“He’s not coming.”

She reaches a hand over the table to pat yours. “That’s a shame. We probably could’ve gotten him to pay for all the drinks.”

You laugh, cheering up slightly. “Yeah, probably. Anyway… I think I’m gonna head out soon. I have work tomorrow.” You move your arms from the table and lift your head, rifling through your bag to double-check you have all your personal items. 

Your face feels warm from the few drinks you’ve had, accompanied by a pounding headache, and you're already tired from your long day at work. It’s really time to go.

“Are you sure? It’s still not too late… Why don’t we dance? Or have one more drink?” Yolanda asks, twirling the straw in her empty margarita glass.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I’m exhausted. You guys have fun, okay?”

They both give you a sad smile. 

“Let’s call you an Uber.” Trinity says.

You crash into your bed after getting undressed and completing a half-assed version of your nighttime skincare routine. Your phone pings, and you check it to see that Nathan has texted you, wishing you a good night and apologizing for not making it tonight. It’s almost sweet, and you start to smile, until that quickly turns into a frown when he follows up immediately with:

Do you think you could send me a little something, you know, for good luck? ;)

I’ll treat you to the bonus I get if I secure this client tomorrow.

You roll your eyes. You’re not against sending a few sexy pics now and then, but you’ve already gotten ready for bed. Still, the thought of an all-expenses-paid trip to the Maldives does sound good right about now.

You make the difficult decision to get out of bed and dolled up for this amateur photoshoot—the only incentive being an expensive gift in return—and put on your best set of lingerie. It’s just been sitting alone, thrown into the far end of your closet after Nathan gifted it to you not too long ago.

The babydoll dress is a sheer, pastel mesh color that complements your skin tone perfectly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. It pairs well with the thong in the same color, with cute little bows adorning the sides of your hips. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with what you see. He chose a good one. 

Sitting back in bed and on top of your comforter, you try to work yourself up. You flick your nipples through the ruffly mesh and run your fingers over your slit, barely covered by the thong. 

Previous hookup encounters with Nathan invade your mind—as a mood setter—but it doesn’t work. After minutes of trying and trying to get yourself turned on for the man who bought you the lingerie pass, you give up. Instead, your mind flits to Jack and that early morning after you spent the night cuddled together.

Minutes turn into seconds, and you’re already wet, the stringy satin clinging to your cunt. 

You open your phone’s camera and position yourself to take some pictures, snapping a few of your perked nipples poking through the thin bra and your damp thong. More photos are taken, each lewder than the last—the final few exposing your breasts and soaked cunt, bra tucked under and thong pulled to the side.  

Going the extra mile—even though Nathan doesn’t deserve it—you also film a quick video. Featherlight touches graze your nipples, and deft fingers split the seam of your pussy. You give yourself a few light slaps over your clit, making you jump. You tease, barely nudging a single digit inside your hole, moaning Nathan’s name. It’s deadpan, but he won’t notice.

The production is shit anyway. The darkness of the room and the dust trapped in your phone speakers don’t do you any favors for visual or audio, but he’ll get what he asked for. You quickly shoot off the risqué material one at a time, then fall asleep—too tired to change back into your sleepwear. 

The last thought in your mind before entering dreamland: You wish Jack were here to help soothe the ache in your heart and in your cunt.

Jack’s phone pings as he’s lying in his bunker, about to fall asleep. He’s been tossing and turning all night, anxious for tomorrow.

He’ll be home again, this time for a lot longer. He’s itching to see you again after months of mostly radio silence between you two since the trip. He’s sent a few texts here and there, and you’ve responded, but they’re curt. Dry. Diplomatic.

At least when he’s back, you’ll have to see him at some point, right? 

Even if it’s just with your dad—pretending everything is normal between you two—and giving him the cold shoulder when he isn’t looking. Always the good girl, putting on a brave face so Daddy won’t have to worry. He’d be crushed if he found out you couldn’t even stand to be near his best friend anymore. 

Jack reaches under his pillow to grab his phone, sitting up straight in bed when he sees several text messages from you. He opens your text chain, your contact pinned at the top.

Jack nearly passes out when he sees what you’ve sent.

His eyes zip from one photo to the next, too impatient to process each and every one pixel by pixel. You're wearing a pretty lingerie set, but not one that he would pick out. He much prefers a birthday suit—less fuss. A dozen or so images of your perky nipples and sopping pussy greet his wide eyes. 

His heart nearly bursts out of his chest. He can’t see your face—the image is cropped out or just out of frame—but including it might’ve actually sent him to the infirmary. Why didn’t he take more pictures with you—of you—during the trip?

Maybe he thought he wouldn’t have to. Like somehow it could’ve ended another way—with you two together. You don’t need photos when you’ve already got the real thing. It’s wishful thinking, and now the only thing he has as a reminder is a broken heart and a sore wrist from thoughts of you crying on his thigh.

The last message from you is a video, and he adjusts the volume so it doesn’t blast, but at least he’s tucked away in his own quarters—a nice perk of being a long-time sergeant. 

He does it as if lowering the volume absolves the wrongness in his more-than-willing participation and engagement with your lewd messages. Still, his thumb hovers over the play button, trying to convince himself to delete the texts and forget this happened—but it’s a losing battle. 

The short clip plays, and what he hears is like Apollo’s lyre, your moans and the squelch of your cunt seducing him—but one bad pluck of the animal gut in the form of another man's name pulls him from his hypnosis.

It’s a name that doesn’t belong to him. It rots Jack from the inside out, grime curling into his mouth, and he almost spews it onto the floor. 

He already knows you didn't mean to send this to him, but he’s devastated and envious. Ready to march on a warpath leading to the man who let you slip through his fingers with tears in your eyes. He’s replayed that moment of you leaving the tent one too many times, trying to rewrite the story in a way that would lead him back to you. 

Jack should’ve reached for you then. Reassured you that the moment wasn’t just because of a warped sense of duty. 

He wants you.

And you’re no longer the eighteen-year-old girl he initially met. You’re a grown woman, one who’s capable of making her own decisions. Jack chooses courage now, because if he doesn’t act, paltry, meager men will take what’s rightfully his… what has always been. And he fears you’re already being pulled away by forces he can’t control.

The only other obstacle is your dad. But Jack can take him in a fight, if necessary. He hopes it won’t come to that.

He aches for you. Wants to take the next steps in life and move on with you. But he can’t, not yet. Not until he’s back home and he can show you he means it. But now he has all the motivation he needs to try to get back in your good graces.

Instead of deleting the texts, he saves the material, then he does what he thinks is best to rectify the mistake he made all those months ago.

He calls you.

You’re awoken from a light sleep when your phone goes off, vibrating on the nightstand. 

Your eyes adjust to the bright light on the screen as you hold the phone over your face—careful not to drop it—and you see that you have a few missed phone calls from Jack. You sit up in bed.

It’s midnight. What could he want? It’s been—well, since before the camping trip—that you last spoke on the phone. You don’t bother returning his call. Whatever he wants to talk about can wait at least until you're fully conscious. 

You clear the notifications from Jack one by one when you happen to see another one from Nathan:

Hey, did you fall asleep? Where are my pics :(

That makes you freeze, anxiety jolting you into full coherency. You know you sent those off… But if not to Nathan, then to whom?

You immediately return Jack’s call, not even bothering to look through your messages to confirm what you did. You know you sent them to him. Because, maybe, deep down, you wanted to send him those photos.

The line connects, and you speak up first. “Jack?”

He feels his nervousness dissipate, rejuvenated after going so long without hearing your saccharine melody.

“Angel… it’s been a while.”

“I take it you saw what I sent you?” You tug at the bows adorning your hips, loosening them and twirling the slack satin.

“Heard it too.”

You bring your phone to your chest, groaning in humiliation as the soft sheets rustle beneath you. Despite that, you grow hot at his wrecked voice and utter honesty. How is it that after all this time—even on complicated terms—he can still make you fall apart with just his voice?

You quickly bring your phone back to your ear to ask him the burning question. “Did… did you like what you saw?”

Jack’s brain buffers, pulse racing at your shy, innocent, but very loaded question. He doesn’t respond right away but feels the need to praise you for being so good to him. 

“…Yes, God, yes. You don’t know what you do to me, kid.”

Butterflies flutter inside your stomach, and you almost want to throw your phone into the wall from the overwhelming joy you feel at his response. 

“W-why are you calling?”

“Why do you think? I hear you moan another man’s name, and you think I won’t address it?”

“You don’t have the right to be upset. I walked out on you… but you pushed me away.” You pout and chew on your lip. You’re not letting him get away with his behavior that morning.

He’s stunned into a short silence, but ultimately he’s glad you called him out. You’ve been more mature than him throughout everything, and he runs his fingers through his curls in embarrassment.

He puffs out a tired breath. “I know. But that’s also why I want to talk to you. I want to apologize for that day. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Letting you go… well, it’s one of my biggest mistakes. I won’t make it again.”

Coming from Jack, it’s the most heartfelt and mournful apology you’ve ever heard. Would it be too quick to forgive him already? The distance and time apart only make you more willing to throw the water under the bridge.

You start to tear up and begin to say something when Jack interjects, “And I want to tell you that you’re devastating. Just…” He chuckles. “I can’t even get the words out. Stunning. Even if you’re moaning another man’s name.”

Heat works its way through your body at his words. Still, you respond, with a sniffle, “And while wearing the lingerie he bought me.” You throw that in to make him hurt. Just a little bit more.

“You’re really killing me here, you know that?”

You laugh, and he feels as if all’s right with the world again. “Sorry. Thank you for apologizing, Jack. I’m—I’m also sorry for not reaching out to you more. I shouldn’t have held such a grudge against you. I know you only have the best intentions.”

He really doesn’t. Not with your video still playing in the back of his mind. Not when he’s nearly two decades older than you and he thinks about knocking you up. But as long as you want him just as badly as he does, it'll be alright. “I should’ve reached out too. It’s not your fault.”

You both listen to the hushed sound of the other’s breathing through the phone, not wanting to disturb the quietude brought by your mending of fences. 

A few peaceful seconds pass in silence. “So… what now?” 

“You tell me. What do you want, angel?”

“I want—I want you. I… I want to be with you, Jack.” Your voice comes out shaky and in a pathetic whisper, but that only endears you to him more.

“Then you have me.” Jack twists the silicone band on his finger, already planning your life together in his head. He’s going to take such good care of you. That nearly excites him more than the thought of getting you underneath him. Almost. 

“What do we do about my dad?”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ll talk to him together. I didn’t tell you, but I’m coming home tomorrow.”

If you weren’t already sitting up in bed, you would probably levitate. You smack your chest as your heart pumps a little too fast. “You’ll be here? Tomorrow?”

He’s amused by your sweet reaction. “Yes. Wait for me.”

“Okay, I will.” You nod, even though he can’t see you over the phone. “I—I missed you.”

“Me too, sweetheart. More than words can say.”

A moment later, Jack speaks up, addressing you by name. He doesn’t want the call to end. He wants to feel close to you again with a new understanding that he can be a little selfish. Because that's what people who let themselves feel and receive love do.

“Before we hang up, I want to try something. I want you to send your boyfriend a little present.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… sleeping together. And what present?”

“That’s good. It’ll make this easier. I want you to touch yourself. Make him a video like the one you sent me. I’ll talk you through it, baby. Tell him who you were really thinking about when you made it.”

Your mouth hangs open. The gall. The nerve. The audacity. But his possessiveness and need to claim you in front of the audience of one make you squirm, your cunt starting to leak from just his words.

He tuts into the phone when you don’t respond. “Be a good girl and answer me.”

Affirming words spill easily from your lips. “O-okay. I’ll do it. What—what would you like me to do first, sir?”

Jack groans into the phone as he clutches it, his other hand moving beneath his boxers to free himself, and you giggle at his reaction. 

“Put me on speakerphone. Use one hand to film and the other to pinch and squeeze your tits. Perk them up real nice.”

You rip your comforter away from your body to play with your nipples through the mesh lingerie—sensitive—as the fabric rubs into them. As you tug each one roughly, your other hand shakes as it holds the phone while recording. It’d be so much more difficult to focus if you were also FaceTiming each other. But luckily for you, Jack probably doesn’t even know what that is. You’re patient enough to wait to see him tomorrow. In person.

You moan softly, more enthusiastically this time around than earlier tonight. Poor, poor Nathan.

“Say my name. Say it, baby.” You can hear the lewd squelches coming from Jack’s end as he jerks his cock, and you whine his name—loud enough for the phone to pick up—your nipples stinging from how brutally you’ve tweaked them.

He grunts, “Now, slowly drag your hand down and touch your clit. Make sure you give him a good look, angel.” Jack’s breathing quickens, and you hear him spit, lubing up his already wet cockhead and fisting himself to spread more slick down his length.

You follow his command. You trail your fingers down the slope of your body until they reach your center. Making sure the camera is focused on your cunt, you manage to splay yourself open, giving the lens a nice look at your soaked and slippery folds. Your digits press harsh circles into your clit, and you have to stop yourself from squirming too much to keep the phone from rocking. “J-Jack, I’m—I’m getting close. Pleasepleaseplease keep talking to me. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“Already going to come? We’ve barely started, kid.” 

Hearing him call you kid at this very moment does unspeakable things to you. Things it shouldn’t.

He laughs at you, mockingly, but he’s getting close too. He twists his rough fist up and down the length of his cock, putting his phone on the nightstand so he can massage his balls, throbbing and full for you.

It’s really too bad that all his come will be going to waste.

“You want my praise? That it?” he drawls, words slurring as his balls tighten. “You should be here, helping me with this.” Jack punctuates his statement with a rough tug of his cock, hopeful that you get his point through his voice alone. “This is all your fault. You’d like to see how hard and leaky I am for you, hm? I’ll prove to you how much you drive me crazy tomorrow. It’s a promise.”

Jack starts to stroke himself faster, the globs of spit trailing down to his balls and sheets from his hurried pace. He wants you to come first.

“A-angel, please, put the heel of your palm on your clit and three fingers in your cunt. It won’t fill you like I will, but it’ll work.”

He sounds absolutely wrecked, but he’s past the point of total humiliation now. As long as you do what he says, you’ll both be rewarded.

You rub your swollen clit with the heel of your hand, fucking yourself on three digits—and he’s right—it’s not enough. But he’s not here right now, and you need to come. He needs you to come.

“Are you doing it?” When all he hears is a high-pitched “Mhm!” from you, he gives the final directive. 

“Come, baby. Need to hear you. Show him what it’s like when a man really makes you come.”

You finally crest, overloaded with physical sensation and Jack’s praise, ragged and through gritted teeth. You let out a pathetic wail, orgasm ripping through you and making you drop the phone onto the bed next to you with a soft thud. You twitch, worn out, but can hear him shift in his bed, adjusting to make himself more comfortable.

With a strained voice, Jack says, “Good girl. That’s a… very good girl.” He gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. Then, he immediately follows up with, “Stay with me, angel. I need to hear your voice.”

A few more strokes of his cock, and your whispers and quiet confessions push him over the edge. 

He comes with a rumbling groan, thick spend making a sloppy mess over his hand, down his length, onto his sleep shorts, and into his sheets. At the tail end of his orgasm, he idly thinks about making you lick clean his mess. Maybe feeding it to you and watching your eyes glass over with the taste. Tomorrowtomorrowtomorrow.

With that in mind, Jack flops back onto his pillow, exhausted but satiated. He whispers your name, hoping you haven’t fallen asleep yet. You respond with a soft hum, and he lets out a breath. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that. We both did. Are you okay?”

“Mhm. Just tired,” you whisper back, head nestled sideways into the pillow.

“Okay, I don’t want to keep you up too long. You probably have work, right? Sweet dreams, angel. I’ll see you tomorrow. And… you don’t have to send him the video if you don’t want to.” Nathan will know soon enough that only Jack has a claim on you. 

You snort. You already know what he really wants. “I already sent it. Guess I should burn this lingerie set now, huh?” 

His lips curl up in a devilish smirk. He doesn’t deserve you. “Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight, Jack. Love you.” 

He freezes. He’s not sure if you meant those last two words or if they just spilled out of you due to your post-coital haze and fatigue. But he doesn’t get the chance to confirm, as he can tell from your silence you’ve fallen asleep.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He hangs up. 

Love you.

You’ve just come home from work—tired and nearly passed out—when you hear a knock at the door. He texted you a while ago when his plane landed. Is he here already?

You open the door and see Jack, still in his military outfit and carrying his luggage, dropping it as you jump into his arms.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” He whispers into your neck, inhaling your scent. Your scent’s a little sweaty and like the outside, but you smell like home.

“It’s good to see you too, Jack.” You bury your face into his shoulder, wanting to crawl inside his skin, but content with just a hug for now. You can feel his back muscles even through the thick material of his outfit, and it’s as if he’s gotten even stronger since you saw him last. You’re glad he’s holding you up because you would have quickly dropped to your knees to give him a warm, wet welcome home. But the apartment floor is hardwood, and he hasn’t even stepped inside yet. There’ll be time for that later.

He tilts your chin up from where it's tucked into his shoulder and kisses you. It’s soft and gentle, like a ghost haunted by its past trying to grasp something real. But you’re solid against his touch, and he lets himself feel your lips and soft skin and supple body against his.

He kicks his gear into your apartment and closes the door, then carries you to your bed, still kissing you. He doesn’t bother to ask for permission to enter this time. You’re tossed onto the bed with a soft thud, and Jack bends down to cradle the side of your face with his warm palm, his intense stare meeting your loving one.

“Let me make good on my promise. Are you gonna let me eat out your sweet cunt? Or do you want my cock now?”

Your body shakes, and you make a cute noise in the back of your throat. “D-don’t you want to change first? Maybe let me make you something to eat?”

“No. I want to take care of you. Let me?”

You can’t help but beam at him. It’s no use fighting him. “Okay.” 

You lay your hand over his and notice his wedding band is gone.

“Dad? Dad, are you okay? You’re staring off into space…”

You and Jack give each other a worried look as you sit opposite your dad at lunch. You slightly regret having told him about your relationship. Maybe this could’ve been kept a secret until… nevermind. That’s too morbid. He’ll just have to accept this.

Your dad shakes his head. “Sorry, I—I didn’t expect this, but to be honest, I can’t say I’m surprised.” He sighs. “As long as you’re both happy, I’m happy. I can’t dictate your life anymore, honey. But Jack, if you hurt her, you won’t be dropping twenty. You’ll just be dropping. And I don’t mean pushups. Understand me?”

Jack smiles, turns to you, and brings your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I sure do.”

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | 01 - the boneyard

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 3.2k content: alcohol consumption, angst, cursing, pogue/kook talk, rafe being an asshole, classism, superiority complex authors note: they are back! my angsty babies. we'll see where this one goes. If you read it the first time around, pretend you didn't 😂

01 | 02

Another Boneyard party. Pogue territory, your territory, not his. Yet he found himself at another party there. The excuse he gave everyone, even himself, was that he would never miss a party and needed to keep an eye on Sarah, his very grown sister, whose business was anything but important to him. But he needed something to justify his presence instead of just accepting the truth about why he always wanted to be there.  

The truth didn’t make sense to him. It was not who he was. Rafe hated pogues, even though he wouldn’t use the word hate out loud; his actions spoke louder than words. He never wanted to be around them, not until he saw you. Sarah had invited her new friends over to a party after a few months of dating John B. He had probably seen you around a few times, but you had never caught his attention. You had been like another person who blurred into the background until that night. There was just something about you that had him immediately hooked. From that point on, he looked for you everywhere; he wanted to know you. He wanted to know a pogue, and that threw him off balance more than he liked to admit.  

Your existence alone made him lose his mind, but other things drove him crazy and made his skin crawl. Like the fact that you weren’t afraid of him, you stood up against him when he messed up with your friends, and you were there to witness it. Whenever he was an asshole, you were there calling him on his shit, and he hated it but not as much as he pretended to. He hated that you could see right through him, but he loved how much he could also push back at you. There was just this pull about you that he couldn’t resist.  

So, there he was again at another Boneyard party, even when he wasn't really in the mood; he was there only to see you. As much as he tried to ignore you and pretend not to care for you, he couldn't, and that's how he ended up going back to his car to grab his jacket and make his way to you. The party was in full swing, but you needed a break, so you were sitting alone on a blanket over the sand, looking at the ocean and hugging yourself. For a mid-June night, it was cold—too cold; probably a storm was coming soon, or the weather was just acting up.  

As if it were heaven-sent, a puffy jacket wrapped around you. "You'll get sick," he said. You looked up to meet Rafe's stoic face, as if what he had just done was nothing. "It's freezing," he added before sitting next to you.

"I'm going to be fine," you said. 

As much as you wanted to take the jacket, your pride was bigger, so you started to take it off to give it back, but he stopped you by putting it back on. He scoffed before answering. 

"Right, like you're not trembling. Just take it." You didn't fight him; it felt good, but you weren't going to admit it to his face. 

"What about you?" You turned to look at him. He didn't appear cold, but still, you asked. 

"I'm fine. You need it more than I do." His eyes darted over to your body, a strange feeling forming in his chest at the sight of you enveloped in something that belonged to him. 

“I'm not going to die from being cold.” You glared at him, putting your arms into the jacket. It looked like his jacket had swallowed you up, and he smirked at the sight.

"Yeah, I know, but you were shaking, and I'm not."

"Right..." Rafe being nice to you wasn't new, but with him, you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was never nice just to be nice.

"Thanks," you said softly as you looked around. Everyone was enjoying the party; it was one of those moments when you wondered why you were there. You could be doing anything else. Rafe interrupted your thoughts when he cleared his throat.

"Aren't you going to go back to everyone?"

"Not right now. Why?" You turned to look at him with a confused expression. You wanted to go home, but if you didn't stick around a little longer, your friends would ask, and you liked to avoid the questions. 

"Just asking… I don’t get why you hang out with them." The other shoe dropped. You wondered if it was physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut. 

"Around who? My friends?” you asked. "Yeah, I don’t see the appeal of hanging out with Pogues.” You rolled your eyes.

“You are hanging out with one right now,”  you quipped back, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but this is different,” he said as if he were stating something obvious. 

"Oh, and why's that?" Rafe was the perfect example of why you didn’t like kooks; it was like they inherently needed to be right or have the upper hand in anything they did. 

"Because I’m not hanging out with you, I’m just sitting here,” he scoffed. He had a way of getting under your skin that no one else had. It was infuriating. 

“If you were just sitting there, you wouldn’t be talking to me.” 

“Whatever, one pogue is not the whole Cut,” he said gruffly. 

“Yes, because God forbid you’re a decent person toward the rest.”

“Again with that?” 

“You’re the one who started this.” He knew it was true. 

“I just don’t get why you willingly decide to hang out with them. They don’t care about anything, look at them…” he made a hand gesture to point at your friends. 

“It’s a party, they are having fun.” 

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t be around them,” he shrugged. 

"And what makes you think I will listen to you?" His face contorted in annoyance.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Pogue. " The way he said 'Pogue' with such disdain just reminded you of his hate for you and your friends. You also hated him, even if the current situation didn’t look like you did. You didn’t take off his jacket. The cold weather was making you do stupid things. 

“You hate Pogues,” you stated. He huffed, almost as if it’s amusing to see you mad. 

“Usually I do; all of them are annoying, but…” he pauses for a second, thinking as if it’s a good idea to continue talking. “You just… you’re different.”  

“And that’s supposed to mean something?” You didn’t know how to take that coming from Rafe, of all people.  

“It means you don’t annoy me as much as they do, and I don’t particularly want to see you getting hurt because of whatever the Pogues do.”  

“Getting hurt? How would my friends hurt me? Last time I checked, you were the one doing the hurting to them.”  

“They are them, and you’re…” he trails off. “I just don’t get how you can hang out with them.” His irritation was growing; you noticed it, but you didn’t care.  

“There’s nothing to get; they are my friends. Maybe you don’t understand because the concept of considering your friends family is foreign to you.”  

“Oh, I don’t get that they’re your little family? That you love hanging around The Cut?” he said in a condescending tone.  

“I’m a Pogue! The Cut is my home,” a home that you didn’t like. Pope was the only one who knew how much you wanted to just get out and how hard you were working to actually make that happen. “That’s my life!”  

“A hell of a life you’ve got then; you could do better than that.” As much as you didn't like it there, it was still your home. He didn’t have the right to comment on it. He had barely set foot in, and he didn’t get it. He was never going to get it. “Living there doesn’t mean you have to hang out with them.”  

“And what? Get kook friends that don’t understand how hard it is to live on the Cut? They get me; we have been through a lot together.” His chest feels tight all of a sudden. He studies your face, trying to think of what he can say next.  

“You could do better. Go find new friends, some that won’t drag you down with them.” You stare at him, looking for a trace of it being a joke, but he is serious. He seriously thinks your friends are not good for you. You laugh bitterly.

“I don’t need new friends… I don’t want new friends. They aren’t dragging me down; they push me to do better and, most importantly, they don’t make me feel like trash.” Rafe goes silent, his jaw clenching in annoyance. He knew he treated your friends like that most of the time and hated that you were right about it.  

“I don’t think you’re trash,” he groans in frustration. “This is just about having better company, people that don’t get you into trouble.”  

“I don’t need better company. What aren’t you getting? They are important to me, and I care for them. We stick by each other, and we push each other to do better because we want out; we do not want to stay in The Cut forever.” You didn’t. A part of you knew that JJ and John B didn’t care. Yes, they wanted better, but that didn’t necessarily mean getting out of The Cut.  

Then there was Kie, who was a kook and preferred the pogue life. A part of you was angry at Kie; she had the privileges you would kill for, and she took them all for granted. You loved her, but still, it frustrated you.  

He scoffs; he hated the tone you were taking. Yes, it’s the same tone he’s giving you, but he doesn’t like it when it’s aimed at him and coming from you. If it had been any other pogue, he would’ve either fought them or ignored them, but it was you.  

“Oh, you don’t?” he said, faking disbelief. “I don’t think having them around is going to make things easier. Almost no one makes it out of The Cut. What are you going to do? Work for minimum-wage jobs?”  

“You think I’m not aware it��s hard? I know how things go, Rafe.” You were trying to remain calm; he was getting on your nerves. You had heard that a thousand times, but coming from him right there felt somehow even worse. Not even a few minutes ago, he had given you his jacket, but just like that, he was back to being an asshole.  

“Well then, I don’t think you’re trying that much. The Cut is like a black hole that swallows people, and you can never escape. If you do, I doubt it's going to be with your friends next to you.” You had enough. He had the nerve to say all that when his father came from The Cut and made it out. You didn’t really like Ward Cameron; granted, not a lot of people did, but you had to give him that. He made it out, and he wasn’t the best person, but he was all the proof you needed to know it was possible.  

“Yeah, well, your dad made it out of that black hole.” You saw him tense up at the mention of his father; well, now you knew how to piss him off. You regretted using his dad as an example since it was a sensitive topic for him, but you tried to convince yourself he deserved it.  

You didn’t like confrontation, but with him, every word flew out of your mouth without hesitation. It made you feel good, like you were brave enough, and in the eyes of many, you were. After all, it was Rafe Cameron you were standing up against. Deep inside him, he respected that you would run your mouth at him, even if it made you the most insufferable girl he knew.  

“My dad was different; it was a rare thing, like winning the lottery, you know?” you huffed under your breath, looking at the sand. Of course, he was going to be an asshole about it. But he saw your reaction and felt the need to comfort you.  

“What I’m saying is…” He didn’t know if he would say the right thing; he sucked at comforting people. “You’re going to have a hard time getting out of there. If you want to stay with your friends, then maybe you’re better off staying in The Cut and accepting that reality.”  

You looked at him; if you could strangle him with a look, you would’ve done it. You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek. “You know what, Rafe? Fuck you! You don’t get it!” You stood up, took his jacket off, and threw it at him before walking away.  

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” He stood up, calling you out and grabbing his jacket, but you were already walking as fast as you could to get away from him.  

“This girl…” he muttered. You annoyed him so much, yet he felt bad. The look on your face before leaving, the words—it had affected him more than he liked to admit. Watching you go directly to JJ after it just made it worse. You had heard him, but you ignored him. What made him think that any of what he said was okay?

—

When you finally made your way back to your friends, you regretted throwing his jacket back; you were cold again. “Ah, she's back! Where were you?” JJ piped in first as he watched you sitting near the bonfire. You weren’t going to tell them you were with Rafe, so you avoided the question the best way you knew how.

“Just taking a break from all this,” you nodded, hugging yourself. You thought about going back just for the jacket, but you would rather freeze to death than face Rafe again. 

“You’re cold? There’s a hoodie on the Twinkie; you can grab it,” JJ said as he walked to grab another beer. You nodded and decided to go get it, and maybe even stay there. You made your way to where the Twinkie was parked.

—

Rafe didn’t leave the party even after what had turned out to be a fight with you. He kept an eye on you from a distance, and he did that far more often than he liked to admit. He decided to follow you wherever you were going. You were about to put on the hoodie when Rafe showed up.  

"You know you can always have this back." He lifted his hand, where he held his jacket. You rolled your eyes as you put on the less-warm hoodie.  

"I don’t need or want your help; maybe you should accept that reality too," you said bitterly, referring to what he had told you earlier.  

He rolled his eyes, feeling guilty for what he had said, but it was done, and he was trying to make it better without even saying sorry. "You don’t let things go, huh?"  

"You’re an asshole to me, and then you want me to be okay with it? Things don’t work that way; at least acknowledge that what you said was wrong." You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him. He knew he was in the wrong; he felt bad about it, but he wasn’t going to apologize or acknowledge it because every word you said spiked his irritation in a way only you could manage.  

"If being wrong is stating facts, then yeah, I’m wrong," you groaned in frustration. You wondered why you even indulged him when you knew how he was. It was like you were being pulled to him; as much as you knew you could just stay quiet, you never did with him. You didn’t like him having the last word.  

"You’re an asshole. You come here saying stuff when you don’t even have a clue what it’s like to live in a place you hate, but it's still your home." He felt a sudden anger bubbling up. Oh, he was familiar with hating the place where he lived. It wasn’t the same way you did, but he knew the feeling all too well.  

"You’re so infuriating. First, you say I’m too much for the Pogues—newsflash, I’m one! You say they hold me down, but when I tell you I want to do better, you say I should give up?" You groaned in frustration and ran your hands through your hair.  

He stared at you; you looked pretty even when you were angry at him. He shook his head, focusing back on his irritation. "You done with your tantrum?" He knew that would only make you more upset, and maybe he wanted to see how far he could take it. As much as he was different from you, he still was Rafe—the cocky kook asshole who thought everyone should listen to him. You clenched your jaw.  

"What, you didn’t like what I said? Sorry, I was just stating facts." You lifted a brow, testing him in return. You weren’t afraid of him; your friends had told you multiple times to be careful, that you didn’t know who you were messing with. But nothing ever happened to you, besides the same old Pogue comments, and as sad as it was, you were used to them. They did hurt sometimes, but nothing worth crying over. It just fueled you to prove to everyone—and him—that you could do the things he never thought you would.  

"Do you ever know when to shut up?" he huffed, and you felt a pang of hurt in your chest. Out of all the things he had said, this is what ended up hurting you? You swallowed and looked up at him. "Oh, you do know when to shut up." He smirked with his stupid, smug face. Why did he have to be like that?  

"Do you ever know when to stop?" you pushed past him. You knew why this had hurt more than the other things, but you chose to ignore it; you could deal with that later, or just shove it down. You turned around to walk back to where the rest of the people were.  

"Wait!" He yanked you back. "You don’t get to tell me what to do." You looked at him, frustrated. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, but it was useless.  

"Neither do you!" You pulled your arm from his grasp. "Never touch me again. I don’t want to see you around. Stick to the words you’ve said to my friends a thousand times: stay on your side of the island, kook!" You used the word with the same distaste he used for "Pogue."  

You were done; he had made you feel horrible twice, and you had allowed it. You stormed off, and this time he didn’t stop you. The words kept ringing in his head until Topper called him out. They were ready to leave, and at the same time, you convinced JJ to take you back to your house. Rafe looked from a distance, anger bubbling up inside him, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

He left the party not long after you did, parts of the conversation still replaying in his head.

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @angelicameron @purplerose291 @davinashifts333 @hannieskzzz @rafesdrew @icopewithfanfictions @pogueprincesa taglist is open! if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write.

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[mindless-existence1]

Kpop Demon Hunters

Baby Saja x Reader

Summery: You bring in snacks for the groups (Huntrix and Saja Boys) and Baby teases you a bit (hes your boyfriend)

Authors Note: I loved this movie and I loved Baby and Jinu from Saja Boys and all the Huntrix my requests are open for this movie this is my first fic for it tho

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had gotten to the studio about 10 minutes ago to drop off lunch for the group. It had started out as just for Baby but then the others heard you were getting him some snacks and they begged you to pick something up for them too.

You didnt mind tho you were happy too, and Baby had told you about how hard they had been working recently. Saja Boys and Huntrix were working on a new song together and that ment long hours.

You sat on the couch of the lounge area, bags of food beside you. You just mindlessly played on your phone and hummed along to the songs playing in your headphones.

Finally you heard a door open an a collection of sighs coming from the idols. "Ugghhhh im so tired" you heard from Rumi and a chanting of "Couch! Couch! Couch!" From her costars.

The guys were more quiet just groaning and whiny about being tired and hungry and ready for a break. "Y/n!" The girls yelled when they saw you, Zoey and Mira jumped onto the couch and Zoey gave you a hug before they grabbed at the snacks.

The guys fought over different snacks and the girls downed their Ramen you specifically got for them. "Thank you so much" the girls cried. "Thank you y/n" the guys said through large bites of food.

"Of course, you guys are working so hard its the least I can do." They all hummed and smiled, Baby sat next to you eating his own share. "I really appreciate thank you babe." Your boyfriend said and kissed your cheek.

You smiled at him and started eating some od the food you got for yourself. "So how's the single coming along?" You ask after everyone began to finish their food. Zoey got a happy glint in her eyes and excited started telling about how she came up with the lyrics and what they all mean.

You happily listened leaning back into the couch, Baby's arm around you. You continued to talk and listen to the idols talk about their new single, half way through their break though you had put on some flavored chapstick not thinking anything of it.

But Baby noticed and if you guys weren't infront of your friends he would've started making out right then and there. But he was proud of himself for showing restraint.

Bobby walked through the door connected to the studio and called out. "Girls, Guys, im so sorry but break times over we need you back out in the studio!" The group collectively groaned but Rumi said "For the fans!" In mock enthusiasm.

"For the fans" the other idols repeated. One by one they got up with a sigh and walked towards the studio befor it was just you and Baby, "Ill be out in a sec!" He called to Jinu who was the last one to walk through the door, he nodded with a knowing smirk on his face.

When the door shut Baby immediately grabbed your chin and kissed you, you stayed like that for a moment just kissing untill he pulled away looking into your eyes. "Hmm, Strawberry. I like it." He said quietly while glancing down towards your lips.

You blushed and turned your head away slightly, "Baby!" You reprimanded. "Yes?" He put an innocent smile on his face and tilted his head to better see your face. "Go do your idol job you freak." He laughed but started getting up.

He kissed your forehead and started walking towards the studio, "Good bye my love, thank you for the food." You wave, grabbing your own things so you can get back to whatever you were doing before lunch. He blew you a kiss and gave you a wink, licking his lips as he closed the door to the studio

[demie90s]

Reader is a cheerleader at UConn and Nika’s been giving her attitude for weeks—except it’s not hate, it’s jealousy. After a game where reader’s talking to someone else, Nika corners her behind the arena and finally breaks. “You wanna keep playing with me, or you wanna admit you’re mine?”

You Knew

Nika Muhl x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You’re UConn’s star cheerleader. Nika Mühl swears she can’t stand you, but her recent attitude tells a different story.

Word Count~ 0.8k

Genre: Jealousy, Flirtation, Confession

Warnings: Cursing, light possessiveness, tension

After a long-ass win, I’m still sweating under these damn stadium lights, half-wiped glitter on my cheek and pom-poms tucked in my tote, when I see her again. Nika Mühl, brooding across the court. Brown hair pulled back, jersey clinging to her frame, brows knit. She’s been like this for weeks. No words. No waves. Just that sharp-ass glare from across campus like I keyed her car or stole her last protein bar.

I should care. But I don’t. Not when I’ve seen her smile before—twice, tops—and it made my chest feel like it short-circuited.

So yeah. I don’t feed into it.

Instead, after the game, I’m posted near the back exit of the arena, talking to an old friend. A girl from high school, all dimples and good energy. Nothing serious—just catching up, laughing, reminiscing. And I feel it before I see her.

That stare.

The kind of stare that’s not just cold—it’s hot. Angry, tight-jawed heat that travels up your spine. I glance over my friend’s shoulder and sure enough: Nika. Leaned back against a wall like she owns concrete, arms crossed, mouth tight. She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t blink. Just watches.

We finish talking. My friend hugs me, walks away. I barely make it two steps before Nika grabs my arm and pulls me into the shadowed hallway behind the arena. It’s dim. Quiet. Heavy with something unsaid.

“Something on your mind?” I ask, yanking my arm free.

Her accent comes out low and fast, clenched like her jaw. “You wanna keep playing with me, or you wanna admit you’re mine?”

I blink, slow.

“Oh?” I lean against the wall like I’m bored. “I didn’t know you could speak. I thought you were all glares and sulking.”

Nika moves in closer. I can smell the sweat and lavender on her skin. Her hand plants beside my head, trapping me, tall and close and pissed off.

“I glare,” she murmurs, voice tighter than usual, “because every time I see you smile at someone else, I think about making you cry on me instead.”

I bite back a grin. “Jealousy looks real good on you.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“No.” I trail my fingers down the collar of my cheer uniform, slow. “I think you’ve been waiting weeks to say something. You finally done staring or…?”

She exhales sharp through her nose, and her gaze drops to my mouth.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

I smile wider. “No you don’t.”

Her mouth crashes into mine so hard my back thuds against the wall. And just like that, the glares start to make sense.

I gasp against it, but she doesn’t give me space to recover. She’s on me. Pressed so close it’s like she’s trying to crawl inside my skin. Her hand slides down to my waist, fingers tightening, gripping like she’s staking her claim.

And then that other hand—God—tangles in the back of my hair, slow and deliberate. She tilts my head how she wants it, like she’s kissing me for both of us. Not soft. Not sweet. But hungry. Like she’s been holding back since the first time I smiled at someone else and didn’t even know she was watching.

Her grip shifts—hand sliding from the back of my head to my jaw, her thumb dragging across my bottom lip like she’s testing me. Then she grips my chin and angles me up. Our mouths clash again, harder. Messier. Tongue slipping out like she can’t be patient anymore. It’s not cute. It’s not neat. It’s just need.

Sloppy. Deep. She licks into me like she’s starving, like she’s been mad for so long she doesn’t remember how to do anything else but devour me.

And I let her. Hell, I melt.

She moans—quiet but rough—into my mouth when I grab her jersey and pull her closer like I want this fight. My back hits the wall again from the force of her hips pressing forward. She’s fully in control now, and I can feel it in every breath. Every kiss. Every roll of her tongue against mine.

When she finally pulls back, it’s only because she wants to look at me. Her lips are red and wet. Her brown eyes drop to my mouth, then flick up—dark and wrecked and satisfied.

“Open your mouth,” she murmurs, accent thicker than ever. My lips part automatically. She slides her thumb inside, presses down on my tongue, slow.

“I knew you’d listen.”

She pulls her thumb out, replaces it with her mouth again—deeper, wetter this time, kissing like she’s pissed at how much she missed this before it ever started. When I whimper, just a little, she smirks against my mouth.

“You think I was gonna let you flirt around like you’re single?”

I pant between kisses. “You haven’t even asked me out.”

Her fingers curl into my waist again. “Why would I ask?” she growls. “You were mine the second you made me jealous.”

She goes back to kissing me like it’s punishment.I let her. Every second.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[sinofwriting]

Please Take Advantage (of me) - Cody Rhodes

Words: 1,818 Summary: After lunch with a friend, she can’t help but think she’s taking advantage of Cody. Note(s): Implied Age Difference (but no direct reference),

Masterlist | Support Me!

“I know I said it before, but that dress is gorgeous on you.” Her friend says, reaching out and after she gives a nod, stroking the fabric for a second.

“Thank you.” A pleased smile is on her face, blood rushing to her cheeks. “Cody bought it for me.”

The other girl stills, hand halfway to reaching for her drink. “Really?”

She nods, smoothing the fabric. “Said the color suited me.”

Her friend makes a face and then sighs sitting back in her chair. “Could we actually talk about Cody?”

Her eyebrows raise but she nods. “Yeah, of course.” She leans a little forward, the seriousness on her friend’s face concerning her. “What’s up?”

“It’s just,” She pauses. “You're taking advantage of him.”

Her mouth drops open.

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve these things, you do. But, maybe slow down, pump the brakes a little before he realizes what you're doing. I mean, the plane tickets, the new clothes, the jewelry. It’s a lot. And it’s fine to ask for things.” She reaches forward, patting her hand and Y/N has to resist flinching back from the touch. “I ask May for things, but not all the time. It’s like every time I see you in person or on insta you’ve got something new.”

The rest of their lunch is quiet as she processes her friend's words and it doesn’t help when her friend when hugging her goodbye whispers for her to think about it.

And it’s all she does. It’s all she can think about.

She had never thought about it that way, that she was taking advantage of Cody. Not when every time he gave her something it was always him saying, Look, baby, I got you something, I got you a gift, I remember you saying you liked this, all variations she’s heard a dozen times now. And she’s loved everything he’s given her, it’s all been things she’s mentioned liking to him or friends and her heart sinks her. She was taking advantage of him.

Every time she mentioned liking something it seemed to be given to her within a week because Cody was hearing something in her voice that she hadn’t realized was there, a question of will you buy it for me and it brings tears to her eyes as she sinks into her bed. The necklace around her neck doesn’t feel right anymore, it feels wrong to wear and her fingers scramble to take it off, tossing it on her nightstand. The dress is quickly taken off, falling to the ground before she buries herself underneath her blankets.

She had been using Cody and hadn't even realized it… what kind of person does that make her?

She wakes up with missed calls and texts and feeling worse than before. The guilt is festering inside her. She can’t try and give back what he’s given her. Cody wouldn’t accept that. But, she thinks staring at herself in the mirror, she could be better.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

She blinks at the worried tone that greets her as she answers her phone. “Yeah, Cody, I’m okay. I fell asleep after I got home, my phone was on silent.”

She can hear Cody take a deep breath, practically hear the worry melt away from him and another wave of guilt crashes over her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I just, I got worried. You hadn’t texted me since this morning, didn’t tell me you got home and then you weren’t answering and,”

“And I always answer during the day.”

“Yeah.” he breathes.

“I’m okay.” She soothes, sitting down on the foot of her bed, wincing as the dress she had worn earlier comes into her eyesight.

“How was lunch?”

“It was the normal kind of catch up.” She tells him. “Nothing too exciting.” And god was that the truth.

“Take any pictures of you in your dress? I know you look gorgeous in it.”

“Just one.” She answers after a moment. “And thank you again for it. You didn’t have to.”

“You don’t need to thank me for getting you something.”

She has to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying anything to that, because she did. She really did. But what she really needed was to make sure he didn’t feel like he had to buy her anything ever again. And that would require a conversation, an apology, that she couldn’t give over the phone.

“Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner.” She offers.

“You come over to mine and I’ll grill the main while you cook the sides?”

She laughs at the familiar offer but gives a nod of her head. “Sounds perfect.” She pulls her phone away from her ear, looking at the time. “Let me get dressed and I’ll stop by the store and be over.”

“Wear the dress? And maybe bring some more clothes over.”

“I think you have about half my closet at your house.”

“But not your full closet yet.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll try to be over in an hour.”

“With more clothes?” Cody says, hopefully.

“I’ll see you soon, Cody.”

“That’s not an answer. But I’ll see you soon, drive safe.”

Hanging up, she shakes her head, a wide smile spreading across her face. It fades a little when she catches sight of the dress. She wants to kick it underneath her bed, make up some excuse to Cody about it getting stolen or going missing, but she forces herself to put it back on.

As she touches up her makeup, the dress seems to feel heavier and heavier, her neck feels bare but her stomach twists at the thought of putting back on the necklace he gave her a little after a month being together, it twists more when she considers not putting it on.

Everything seems to weigh a ton, the dress, the necklace, her mind, and she’s unable to escape it. Music in the car doesn’t take any of the weight away, the cute baby in produce that giggles and waves at her doesn’t, and parking in Cody’s driveway certainly doesn’t either.

She sits there for a minute, hands gripping the wheel, head pressed against, giving herself just a minute, before she takes a deep breath and gets out of her car.

It’s a single bag of groceries that she has to grab from the backseat, but her lips twitch into a smile as she knows what Cody’s reaction to her carrying it will be.

Knocking on the front door, she doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and her boyfriend is smiling at her, leaning in and kissing her in greeting before a hand is being pressed to her lower back and she’s being ushered into the house.

“You really don’t have to knock, babe.”

She shakes her head, “I do.”

“You have a key.”

“Yeah, so I can get your mail and check on things while you're gone.”

His eyes roll, “and to let yourself in and out whenever you please.”

Her mouth opens to protest, but his eyes catch on the grocery bag in her hand and his whole expression changes and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning as he immediately reaches for it.

“What is this? Why didn’t you text me?”

“It’s stuff for dinner and it’s maybe a pound.”

His offended look grows worse, fingers tugging at the bag and she lets him take it from her. “I’m supposed to bring in the groceries.”

“It’s one bag. And what do you think I do when you're gone and I’m restocking your fridge and cupboards or when I do my own grocery shopping?”

A look of horror flashes across his face. “This is like my worst nightmare.”

She laughs at his dramatics and his offended look transforms into a grin at the sound.

He’s quick to put the bag on the kitchen counter before kissing her again. It’s a far longer kiss than the one he gave her before and she melts into it, into him. Their lips move together lazily for a few minutes, separating with slightly tingly and slick lips.

“This looks gorgeous on you.” Cody murmurs, giving her a peck on the lips as his fingers give a small tug at her dress.

Her smile fades at the compliment, guilt hitting her all over again. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.”

He straightens a bit at her words, hand squeezing her waist.

“I’m sorry.”

His head jerks back at the soft words, confusion overtaking his concern.

She swallows, thickly. “I never meant to make you feel like you needed to buy me things and I’m sorry. That was never my intention, Cody. And I want to be better.”

“Babe, what are you talking about?”

“I-” she starts and is cut off by his hands gently cupping her face.

“I have never felt like I needed to buy you anything. Have I wanted to? Hell yeah, that’s why I’m constantly doing it, but you have never once even hinted at wanting me to buy something for you. You fight me on paying for everything. You tried giving me two dollars for a pack of gum when you forgot your wallet and that’s been the only thing you have ever asked me to buy you.”

“You never let me pay you back for that.” She mumbles.

He huffs out a laugh, one his hands slipping back down to her waist. “And I’m never going to. I like getting you stuff. This dress, your necklace, that art print you pretended not to like.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of the art print. It had been so early in their relationship and she hadn’t thought he could read her so easily, but he had, and a few days later the art print had arrived at her door.

“I love doing it. It’s taking care of you and I love doing that, it’s important to me. Hell, I wish you’d ask me to buy things, even just a pack of gum.”

She softens, guilt no longer festering but disappearing. She knew he liked taking care of people, but it was different hearing him say it. Hearing him say that he wanted to take care of her.

“I’ve never really had anyone that wanted to take care of me, not like this.”

His face softens, his lips brushing against hers for a second. “Well, I want to.” He presses their lips together again, firmer this time. “Now, you're gonna sit on the deck, I’m gonna make you a drink and start dinner and you're going to relax and talk to me about whatever you want.”

“Okay.” She says and the utter joy and relief on Cody’s face rids any lasting guilt that was trying to cling to her.

[littlepinkbirdie]

Little Heartbeat

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader (Married) Genre: Fluff | Humor | Family Feels | Pregnancy Reveal Timeline: A few weeks after their 1-year wedding anniversary

You stood in the kitchen barefoot, hands nervously smoothing down the side of your sundress for the hundredth time. The soft hum of chatter and backyard laughter drifted in from the open screen door as Lewis appeared behind you — curls slightly tousled, shirt half tucked in, holding two lemonades like they were shields.

“You okay?” he asked, offering you one.

You took it and nodded. “Yeah. Just… kinda feels like we’re about to drop a bomb.”

“A tiny, adorable bomb with fingers the size of tic-tacs,” he said, then lowered his voice and added, “Still can’t believe there’s a whole human growing in you.”

You smiled down at your belly, barely showing but already the biggest secret you’d ever kept.

“I feel like I’m lying to everyone,” you whispered. “They think we’re just hosting a barbecue because we missed Easter.”

“Well, technically, we are feeding them,” Lewis said, motioning to the table full of ribs, coleslaw, and your mom’s famous potato salad. “We're just also about to break their brains.”

He kissed your temple, gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You glanced toward the cake on the patio table. White frosting, lemon filling, and a single sentence piped in gold script: “See you in January, Baby Pullman 💛”

It was subtle. Simple. Elegant. And totally out of place next to the basket of hot dog buns.

You laughed nervously. “They’re either going to cry… or someone’s going to choke on a deviled egg.”

About twenty minutes later, you stood beside Lewis as everyone gathered around the cake.

“Okay!” you called, trying to sound casual as Lewis wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We figured it was time to cut dessert!”

Your best friend rolled her eyes. “You two are so dramatic with your cakes. Remember your engagement one?”

“Hey,” Lewis said, grinning, “we like a good surprise.”

He stepped aside to hand you the knife. You sliced through the soft frosting, and your mom leaned in with a phone to take pictures—until she paused, squinting at the inscription.

Her eyes widened. “Wait… wait a minute.”

Silence fell over the group like a dropped curtain.

Your dad leaned in next. Your sister gasped. Your best friend dropped her solo cup.

“Oh my God,” someone whispered.

“You’re pregnant?” your mom said, voice trembling. “Is this—are you serious?”

You and Lewis shared a glance before nodding.

“I’m twelve weeks,” you said softly, eyes already stinging. “We wanted to wait until it felt real… and now it really, really does.”

The backyard erupted. Cheers, tears, a dropped beer bottle, and someone — you suspected your sister — screamed, “I KNEW IT! She wasn’t drinking mimosas at brunch!”

Your mom covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, hugging you tight and whispering, “My baby’s having a baby.”

Lewis was immediately pulled into a hug by your dad, who clapped him on the back so hard he nearly dropped his lemonade.

“I’m gonna be a grandpa?” your dad said, half-choked up. “Does this mean I can finally buy that ridiculous rocking chair?”

Lewis laughed through his own tears. “Buy two. I’m gonna need one too.”

Later, when the sun was setting and the cake was mostly crumbs, you and Lewis sat on the porch swing wrapped in a blanket of contentment and half-melted twilight.

“Everyone handled it better than I thought,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

“No one fainted. Only one person cried into a hamburger. I’d call that a win.”

You laughed, but then he turned to you — his expression soft and full of something that looked an awful lot like awe.

“You’re going to be such a good mom,” he said quietly, like it was just for you.

And when you looked at him, glowing under the warm golden light, hand resting over your belly, you knew two things for certain: You were no longer just the two of you. And this, this was the start of everything.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

You were curled up in the passenger seat of Lewis’s truck, hand resting over your still-small bump, as the driveway came into view — his parents’ cottage framed by pine trees and early summer sun.

He reached over and laced your fingers together, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

You smiled at him. “Only been thinking about this since the minute we found out.”

“You’re gonna make my mom cry, you know,” he said, pulling into the gravel. “Like... not sniffly cry. Full-on waterfall.”

“I packed tissues,” you grinned. “For both of you.”

An hour later, the four of you were seated around the back porch table, lemonade in hand, feet bare in the cool grass. Lewis’s mom had made her famous blueberry crumble. His dad was flipping grilled veggies. It felt like the kind of afternoon that hung in the air like a secret — quiet, golden, sacred.

You exchanged a glance with Lewis. He gave the tiniest nod.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “We have something we wanted to tell you. Something kind of big.”

His mom leaned forward, eyes already suspiciously wide. “Okay…?”

Lewis looked at you. You smiled and placed his hand gently over your belly.

“We’re having a baby,” you said softly.

For a second, the porch fell completely still.

And then—

“Oh my God,” his mom whispered, covering her mouth with shaking hands. “Are you serious?”

Lewis was already getting pulled into a hug before he could answer.

His dad stepped back from the grill, stunned. “Wait. You’re—? You’re gonna be a dad?”

Lewis laughed, nodding, voice choked. “Yeah. We are.”

His mom’s hands were on your cheeks, her eyes shining. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling you into the kind of hug that felt like home. “You’re giving me a grandbaby.”

“I didn’t want to say anything,” she sniffled, “but I had a feeling. You were glowing when you walked in.”

“I think that was sweat,” you joked through your own tears.

His dad eventually wrapped both of you in a big, warm bear hug, voice thick with emotion. “We’re so happy for you, honey. You two are gonna be such good parents.”

“You’ll come visit, right?” his mom asked, wiping her eyes. “Whenever you want. For help. For rest. For—anything.”

“You’ll probably get sick of us,” Lewis said.

“Never,” she promised. “You’ll just have to pry the baby out of my arms.”

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch beside Lewis, your head on his chest, the fire crackling in front of you. From the kitchen, you could still hear his mom humming — baking banana bread for the baby, because she said she needed to “practice grandma recipes.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head. “You did perfect today.”

You smiled into his chest. “So did you.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered. “We’re building a whole little person.”

You turned your head to look up at him, eyes soft. “And they’re already so loved.”

AUTHOR NOTE: okay so im obsessed im making this a series.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you do more of reader x rafe that involve Sofia.

Calm down || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @tetragonia

Summary: basically based off this scene in s4 ep 2 but ofc including reader

Warnings: none rlly!!

Word count: 1,986

MASTERLIST

The music was too loud, the air was too thick, and the vodka in your cup wasn’t nearly strong enough to make any of this bearable. “So… how have you and him been?” Ruthie asked, her tone loaded despite the way she lazily twirled the straw in her drink.

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed at the direction this conversation was heading. “Rafe and I?” you echoed, lifting your glass and swirling the half-melted ice like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Haven’t talked to him since that bonfire a month ago.”

Your voice was clipped, tone dismissive, but Ruthie was looking at you too closely. The kind of look only a friend who’s seen you at your worst would know how to give. You hated it. “I’m just so over it,” you added quickly, hoping it sounded convincing.

“Can’t believe he stooped that low,” she muttered, snorting into her drink. “A pogue, seriously?” You didn’t answer, but your jaw tensed slightly. You gave a loose shrug, feigning indifference. Like it didn’t burn every time you heard his name. Like you didn’t still dream about that night—his hands, his mouth, the way he said your name like it meant something.

The sound of laughter and shouting swelled around you, and you looked up just in time to see Topper sink a perfect shot into the last cup on the beer pong table. His friends exploded in cheers. “Let’s go, baby!” Topper bellowed, arms thrown up in drunken victory.

Ruthie squealed and immediately threw her arms around her boyfriend in exaggerated celebration “Oh man,” Topper slurred as he staggered over to the two of you, a goofy grin plastered on his flushed face. “It’s just a little harmless celebration, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how absolutely wrecked he already was.

“Oh, absolutely. You need another beer.” Topper laughed, leaning heavily against you. He slung an arm around your shoulder, the scent of cheap cologne and whatever he spilled on himself earlier clinging to his shirt. “You know me so well, Y/n. Fuck, I love you.”

You rolled your eyes but let him kiss your head anyway, playing along like always. Ruthie giggled beside you, probably just as tipsy but much better at hiding it. Then—“Hey!” The loud voice cut through the buzz of conversation, music, and drunken laughter. You turned instinctively, and your entire body went stiff.

Rafe. Making his way toward the group with that same confident swagger like he owned the place. Your stomach dropped. “Yeah, my brother!” Topper hollered, practically leaping forward as the two of them pulled each other into a half-hug, half-clap-on-the-back. “There he is! How are you, baby?”

Rafe actually lifted Topper slightly off the ground before setting him down again, both of them laughing like this was any other night. Like everything was normal. You fought the eye-roll threatening to escape and instead focused on sipping your drink. Then Ruthie nudged you sharply.

You glanced at her and followed her gaze. Sofia. Standing just a few feet behind Rafe. Hair perfectly curled, but her posture stiff—like she knew she didn’t belong but was pretending otherwise. Her eyes darted around the crowd before finally landing on you. She gave you a small, awkward smile.

You stared for a second too long before mustering the fakest smile you could manage and looking away. Arms crossing tightly over your chest. “Of course she’s here,” you muttered under your breath, venom lacing every word. Ruthie raised her brows and leaned in. “I swear she follows him around like a lost puppy.”

You didn’t respond, because when you glanced back at Rafe—he was already looking at you. The smirk was gone now. No bravado, no cockiness. Just that unreadable look he’d perfected. The one that made you wonder if he regretted everything… or nothing at all. “Hey,” he said quietly.

And that was enough to make you snap out of it. Without acknowledging him, you picked up your drink, turned on your heel, and walked away. “Wait,” Ruthie called, rushing to follow you. You didn’t stop. You didn’t want to deal with him. Not tonight. Not with Sofia hovering awkwardly in the background like some replacement you never agreed to.

He knew it pissed you off—seeing them together, acting like what the two of you had wasn’t even worth protecting. And the worst part? He brought her anyway. You made it to the bar, needing something stronger than the half-warm cocktail melting in your cup. You pushed your way through the cluster of sweaty Kooks and grabbed a beer from the tub of ice, popping it open with a sigh. Ruthie stood next to you, her eyes scanning the crowd with laser focus.

“God,” she muttered, leaning against the bar as she sipped her drink, “she stands out like a sore fucking thumb.” You followed her gaze. Sofia. She was lingering near Rafe, too close for comfort but still visibly uncomfortable. Her posture was tense, her smile unsure. She looked like she was trying to blend in, but everything about her screamed not from here.

You took a sip of your beer, eyes narrowing. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Wait—wait. Do you think he pays her to hang around?” Ruthie whispered, mischief dancing in her voice. But before you could even laugh, a sharp voice sliced through the bass-heavy music. “What did you say?” You both stopped. Looked up. The tone was unmistakable.

Rafe. He was standing across the yard, voice raised, jaw locked, shoulders squared. Your chest tightened. “You got something to say?” He was talking to someone now—a girl who looked vaguely familiar. Local. Not a regular. Maybe a plus-one of a plus-one. Whatever he was, he clearly hadn’t learned one of the unspoken rules of Figure Eight: Don’t talk shit where Rafe Cameron can hear you.

“Hey, listen, if you want to say—” “Back off, Rafe!” The guy close by shoved him. Ruthie slapped her hand to her mouth. Your beer paused mid-sip. “Holy shit,” she gasped. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just shook your head slowly. “Typical. Always picking a fight.” You took another swig as Rafe’s voice rose, chest heaving as he advanced.

“If you wanna whisper some bullshit behind my back, why don’t you say it to my face? I’m standing right here.” He stepped forward again, pointing aggressively. Topper lunged in, grabbing him by the shoulder with a grunt. “Rafe, chill, dude—” “You got something to say? Say it to my fucking face!” Rafe barked again, leaning in, slapping his own cheek like some unhinged invitation.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Here come the theatrics.” Topper finally got a better grip, dragging him back slightly. Sofia hovered awkwardly nearby. Her face was blank, expression unreadable. When Rafe stumbled back, she stepped in and helped Topper steady him.

She said something to him—probably trying to calm him down—but you couldn’t hear over the shouting. Then, as if the chaos couldn’t escalate further, Rafe’s voice boomed again. “He was a great man!” You blinked. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “He’s spiralling,” Ruthie said, half in awe.

Before you could agree, the clatter of bottles jolted you. You turned just in time to see Rafe storming toward the bar—your bar. “Hey,” Sofia said behind him, her hand catching his arm, gentle. “Don’t listen to them,” she murmured. You weren’t even trying to eavesdrop. Not really. He wasn’t exactly being discreet.

“Don’t listen to them? Don’t listen to them?” he echoed bitterly. “Kind of hard when they do it in front of me. I mean, I expect that shit from the Cut—but not here.” You exchanged a quick look with Ruthie. There it was. The line.You could practically see it hit Sofia in real time—the flicker of something breaking in her face.

She recovered quickly, but not before you caught the sting in her eyes. “Shit,” Ruthie whispered. “He doesn’t even realise he just insulted her.” Topper reappeared like a storm-drenched lifeguard. “What is this bullshit, man?” Rafe asked, exasperated. “Who do you have at your party?” Rafe shook his head like a wet dog, pacing, seething.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m just—getting a drink.” And that’s when it happened. As he turned, his eyes found you. Locked. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t look smug. Just stared. Something unreadable flickering beneath all the anger—something dangerous. You raised your brows but didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile.

Just took a slow sip of your beer, eyes never leaving his. Almost daring him to say something. He walked right past, close enough for your shoulders to nearly brush. Then Sofia stepped forward. Still lingering behind like she didn’t know where else to go. Her movements were stiff.

And when she looked up, her gaze met yours. It wasn’t awkward this time. It was deliberate. You stood there, holding her stare, bottle in hand. And then—Sofia started walking toward you. Ruthie leaned in, voice low. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me she’s about to start something.”

She stood beside you, just barely within arm’s reach, her presence cutting into the thick air around the bar like a cold gust through summer heat. You didn’t look at her at first—not until she said something. Not until she spoke. “How did you do it?” You paused mid-sip, the neck of the beer bottle still against your lips.

Slowly, you lowered it and turned your head, brows furrowing as your eyes met hers. “Do what?” you asked, voice even but laced with confusion. Sofia’s eyes didn’t move from Rafe—still visible a few feet away, his shoulders tense as he paced near the cooler, Topper doing damage control.

“Calm him down,” she replied, quiet but clear, the weight of the question hanging between you like smoke. You let out a short, disbelieving laugh through your nose. A snort, really. You and Ruthie turned to each other instinctively—your best friend’s eyes wide, eyebrows raised, lips twitching in amused disbelief like is she for real?

Was she seriously asking that? You blinked, looked back at Sofia. She was still watching Rafe like he was a ticking bomb she hadn’t figured out how to disarm. Like you were the only one who ever knew where the wires connected. “You think I knew how to calm him down?” you said, the edge creeping into your voice now.

“He’s Rafe, Sofia. No one calms him down. He decides when he wants to stop.” Her brows pulled together, and for a second, you saw something real flash across her face—something like defeat. Or maybe just realisation. Maybe she thought there was some secret you had. A trick. A formula. But there wasn’t. There never had been.

“It didn’t look like that when you were with him,” she said quietly, eyes dropping to her drink. You exhaled sharply, leaning one arm on the bar, facing her now. “Yeah, well,” you said, “that’s because he and I are alike.” Sofia blinked. Hard. And in that second, you almost felt bad for her.

Almost. But then Ruthie spoke, cutting through the tension with her usual bluntness. “He’s not a project you get to fix, babe. Trust me, she tried.” You didn’t correct her. Sofia stared at the condensation sliding down her glass. “He said he was different with you,” she murmured.

“He was,” you answered simply. “But he fucked it up so there’s that.” And for a moment, the silence between the three of you felt heavier than the party around you. The laughter, the music, the clinking bottles—all of it felt far away. Sofia nodded once, almost like a thank you—but more like a quiet resignation.

Then she turned, walking back toward where Rafe stood—his jaw still clenched, eyes wild, not looking at her. Not looking at anyone. Ruthie sighed beside you. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”You took another swig of your beer, finally letting yourself breathe again.“Nope,” you muttered. “Just another night in paradise.”

[moonqz4now]

WHAT DO YOU WANT? :; Kwon Jiyong x Reader

GD&TOP WRITING EVENT

pairing : Kwon Jiyong x idol!fem!reader

genre : fluff

warnings / contents :

description : Two idols from YG entertainment, one a member of BIGBANG and the other, 2NE1. When years of playful flirting on and off stage, blur into the lines of real romance, the question ‘What do you want’ appears at the YG family concert.

this is my oneshot for the GD&TOP writing event i’m doing, which involves some of my favourite writers, they have all been so kind, and they are incredibly talented, please support them 🤍 so grateful to do this event alongside them all - to them writers who have joined and helped me, thank you so much my loves <3

The first time Y/N heard him say her name, he’d dragged it out like a secret he wasn’t sure he should be telling.

“Y/N-ah,” he’d teased, leaning against the studio doorframe like he had nowhere else to be. Her name fell from his lips so simplistically, like they had known each other for years and he said it everyday.

“That’s pretty” He would casually comment

She was nineteen then. Nervous. New. Still measuring her worth in how tightly she could hold a mic and how little she stumbled over dance steps. He, on the other hand, was already Kwon Jiyong. Already gold chains and platinum hair and lyrics that hit like poetry when no one was looking.

So she just blinked up at him from her spot on the practice room floor, towel draped around her neck, half-winded and unsure if he was serious.

“I like your voice,” he added plainly, and then walked away.

Years later, she still remembered that moment. How the air had felt too warm after he left, how her heart had thudded all the way down to her sneakers.

It had never been anything too obvious between them. Not really. Just a string of “joking” flirts that never quite untangled.

Like the time he’d draped his arm around her during the YG Family photoshoot in 2013, whispering something so dumb—“Smile bigger, you’ll thank me when you’re forty” that it made her laugh right as the camera flashed. She kept that photo tucked in the back of her phone case for years. It’s still there now. A little faded, only slightly ruined. But it was perfect.

Or the way he always seemed to end up on the couch next to her at afterparties, legs pressed just close enough to touch.

“You look tired,” he’d murmur, and she’d roll her eyes because of course she was tired.

But then he’d place a warm can of coffee in her hands without asking.

Times where the two groups would collab, and Jiyong purposefully put his and Y/M’s verses layering over the other, melodically, easily.

For example, when the two groups were working on a collab stage together and were in the dance room practising, light sweat clinging to the back of their necks, and everyone’s hair slightly flattened.

Jiyong would hand her a bottle of water during a break, with Daesung’s voice calling out throughout the room, in his spot sitting next to y/n, “Hyung! Why didn’t you get me water too?” the man would playfully speak.

“Because she needed it more”

Joking, over dramatic winks were passed between the two, with Chaelins gave contorting into a grimace and an ‘ew’ which only encouraged Jiyong to do more, pretending to pepper even more dramatic kisses across her face, his lips never actually touching her skin, until she backed away, pushing him off with a laugh.

Other times where they would be backstage and he would take her water, chug half of it before handing it back to her. Or where they would ‘jokingly’ flirt in front of their friends like it was normal.

Like it was completely innocent, no feeling behind it accept two close friends.

Years of it.

Years of off-stage teasing and quiet studio check-ins, of Jiyong pulling her in for impromptu dance moments during YG collab stages, always a beat too long, always with a wink he never gave to anyone else.

Lingered hands on her waist when they would hug, fingers too gently running through her hair when it needed fixing quickly before going back on stage.

Nothing ever happened. Not really.

He was always too much, and she was always too cautious.

Dancers blurred into fleeting images backstage at the YG family concert. Where all idols connected, collaborated, invented.

BIGBANG covered 2NE1’s songs iconically bad. Their teasing attempt at being a girl group such as the girls themselves, was laughable, and they pulled it off, as they always do, with shit eating grins, and vocals so hypnotising, even when they were trying to sound somewhat bad.

Of course, Jiyong pretended to be y/n. Covering her verses, Copying her now famous movements she would do at every concert. Like the slight head tilt when singing, and the way she would hold the microphone with her pinky out, subconsciously.

The cameras rolled around the group, occasionally drifting to where 2NE1 themselves were watching their friends dance and sing to some of their most cherished songs.

The lights dimmed and the boys, ever the performers, stood in all their glory, soaking up the way the girls were sidestage, mouths covered by their hands in an attempt to hide their laughter, eyes crinkled slightly. Of course the camera zoomed in on G-Dragon at the exact moment he blew a kiss to Y/N.

A seemingly innocent interaction. A mocking, a teasing, something they did all the time.

Only the people who really observed could see the way his eyes softened slightly in almost awe when y/n pretended to grimace in response to the action.

The real 2NE1 appeared shortly after, conquering the stage with a calm yet intense feeling passing through the entire audience. And he was there of course. Watching from a difference, his chain loose around his neck, one she had gotten him for a birthday a couple years back.

He watched her perform with a gentleness in his eyes that you can’t explain. Ignoring Taeyang’s comments throughout the girls set, before claiming he was just immersed in the music.

And then came the final dance. A collab with all the idols that were there that night. All of the labels biggest stars, together on a stage where they all pushed through the exhaustion, the years and years of non stop practising, working, creating.

But when it came to the final bow, BIGBANG and 2NE1 stood side by side, with Jiyong next to Y/N, who’s feet were milling from the heels her stylist made them all wear.

Her foot stumbled slightly, causing her to almost fall in a sheet of panic, and humiliation. But quickly, too quickly to even be considered human, his hand was around her waist, holding her up until she balanced again. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone else surrounding. His grip on her waist wasn’t a foreign sight to the media. But it felt different. When his hand didn’t leave until they all had to move off the stage, the girls heart pattered strongly in her chest.

But she would say it was just the adrenaline of the night.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears as she stepped offstage after the last dance of the night, the heat of the spotlights still clinging to her skin. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and she blinked against the rush of confetti that still danced behind her eyes.

Backstage was utter chaos. Staff yelling into earpieces, stylists tugging at sleeves and wiping sweat, idols hugging, laughing, congratulating each other through adrenaline-drunk smiles. y/n offered a few tired high-fives, her hands still buzzing from the energy of the night.

She wanted to find her members. CL was probably already demanding champagne, but her legs carried her the opposite way, down a quieter hallway. Somewhere dimmer. Somewhere the noise couldn’t follow.

She reached the corner near the old makeup room, the one with the flickering lights and the slightly scratched mirror, and leaned against the wall, letting the silence settle around her like a second skin.

And then she heard it: the soft squeak of sneakers. A presence behind her.

“You always disappear after stages,” came his voice. Gentle. Knowing.

She didn’t turn around, but her lips curved just slightly. “I’m not disappearing. I’m recharging.”

Jiyong chuckled. “Still pretending you’re not exhausted even though you nearly tripped during the group bow?”

“I did not trip.”

“You stumbled. Like a newborn deer.” he teased, before adding “It’s a good thing my hand was there to catch you”

She laughed. quiet, breathless, real.

He came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers. Neither of them moved. The hallway buzzed faintly with fluorescent light. From the distance, the echo of fans chanting still lingered like a dream slowly fading.

For a moment, they said nothing.

Just stood there.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it ever. It was full of everything they’d never said. Years of glances that lasted too long. Inside jokes that stopped being jokes. Coffee cups left outside studio doors and text messages typed and deleted more times than she could count.

And then, softly, so softly she almost missed it, he asked:

“y/n..what do you want?”

Her breath caught.

She turned to look at him.

But he wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t wearing that gummy smile of his that she barely pretended to hate. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held hers with a quiet intensity. No teasing. No smirk.

Just a question.

She swallowed.

Of all the things he could’ve said. You did well tonight. Let’s grab food. I missed this. This was the one she hadn’t prepared for.

Because it wasn’t about the concert.

It wasn’t about music. It wasn’t for the cameras, the fans, the label.

It was for her.

And suddenly, she was nineteen again, holding banana milk in an all too-bright practice room. She was twenty-one, her pinky tangled in his loosely, just before a stage. She was twenty-five, reading his note tucked into a CD case. She was every version of herself that had ever wanted him and been too scared to say so.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think I used to.”

“And now?”

She looked up at him—really looked. His eyes were softer now. Waiting. Willing to wait forever, if she needed him to.

“I think I want…” she paused, then exhaled. Her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. “You.”

He nodded slowly, like he’d known all along. Of course he had. Anyone could’ve guessed. But he was waiting for her to admit it.

Like he just needed to hear her say it.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek, tracing the edge of a smile he didn’t realize he’d missed.

His touch felt different to any other instance they had found themselves tangled in over the years. Like the weight of the situation dawned on them two with a mixture of relief and fear.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said, “for a long time.”

With that, Jiyong leaned in slightly, his nose brushing gently against hers before she stopped him.

“Not here, there’s cameras everywhere”

His laugh was breathy, quiet, his eyes crinkling under the light of the room. And his forehead pressed against hers.

“When have I ever cared for that?”

Then his lips were against hers. His hand once treading carefully on her cheek, now using it to keep himself grounded, his other hand tangling itself in the girls hair.

This is where he belonged. All those years of half-assed denials, avoidance. And now. They couldn’t brush it off anymore. No more, ‘we’re just friends’ with a heavy heart. No more, ‘don’t be stupid, we don’t like each other like that’.

He was drowning in her, and he didn’t want to learn how to swim.

tag list : @raynamorono23 @szonyix6277 @mintymuse @millytugby 🤍

[ptergwen]

saw the post for ideas 👀… yknow those vlogs peter would film in homecoming? what if the only exception in strange’s spell was to let him keep a copy of those films of you and him/memories of the team. he rewatches them when he needs to feel like someone is there with him eating dinner, on holidays, a rough night of patrol, etc :(

always belong to you ❤︎‬

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 2.0k

warnings: suggestive jokes, doctor strange being a bully, angst

a/n: ugh you know i love an angst/fluff combo, i lowkey got carried away if you can't tell by the word count lmao but i think y'all will like :) p.s. i have more things brewing so stay tuned!

"ok, so, we just got on the plane. we're taking off in... i don't know, soon."

the camera pans to you half asleep on peter's shoulder. you hide your face in your boyfriend's flannel, grinning nevertheless. "y/n's tired. it's early," peter tells the camera. "but i'm excited," you mumble. he beams and hugs you to his side. "me too. we all are."

you wrap your arms around peter's bicep and rest your chin on his shoulder. "so, where are you the most excited to go? london, right?" peter looks over at you, his hand rubbing up and down your side. "mhm. what about you, venice?" you ask him.

"definitely venice. i’ve been practicing my italian," peter says. you move closer to the camera so you can talk into it. "yeah, he actually learned some italian. and french, for when we go to paris." you smile sleepily. "city of love," peter adds. you peck his lips, and he smiles against yours.

you never actually made it to paris. god, that whole trip was a disaster. it's a miracle his camera even survived it, since most of his stuff literally got blown up. your plans kept getting changed, and peter barely got to spend any time with you or his friends because he got dragged into doing spider-man stuff, spider-man stuff that put everybody in danger.

but it's not spider-man's fault that he lost you — it's peter parker's.

"you've been practicing your british accent. that's something," peter jokes. "oh yeah, true. i also learned british slang. i wanna be cultured like you, innit?" you do an over-exaggerated accent, which peter chuckles at. "c'mon, i never even leave new york. except germany that one time, and..." he lowers his voice. "space."

"what are you doing?" mj pops up behind peter. her, ned, and betty are in the row behind yours. you got stuck next to flash, who's been snapping at one of the flight attendants for something. "just making video diaries of the trip," peter explains. "ooh, aren't those for may?" ned enthusiastically asks from the aisle seat. "hi, may! everybody say hi to peter's aunt!"

"hi, peter's aunt!" betty waves. "sup, aunt milf," flash chimes in. peter clenches his jaw. "hi, may. your nephew woke me up," mj deadpans. she manages a smile. "i don't know how i’m gonna get any sleep around the lovebirds."

"i'm gonna sleep, too. i'm still kinda tired," you tell mj through a yawn, squeezing peter's bicep. "you should try to sleep, darling. there's gonna be a pretty big time difference when we land." you lay your head on peter's shoulder again with a smile that he returns even bigger.

"okay, i will. don't wanna be jet lagged," peter agrees, turning the camera to himself. "well, that's it for now, may. love you! see you when we land!"

"bye, may!" you echo, peter resting his head against yours as the video ends.

you were both so happy back then. now, you don't even remember who peter is. all he has left of you is memories, ironically enough. it's all he has left of any of his loved ones. may is gone, his only family. his best friends have no memory of him, and neither does his team.

but if peter had just thought things through before he asked doctor strange to cast that spell, he wouldn't have needed to cast a second one, and the world wouldn't have forgotten peter parker.

peter wishes he could make you remember him on nights like these, when he's missing you extra. he'd kept to himself all day in his classes — he doesn't really engage with anyone unless he's in the suit. patrol was quiet tonight, though. so as peter lays on his creaky bed at the end of the day, all by himself in his cramped apartment, he's never felt more lonely.

he thought it might make him feel better to watch some of his old videos. his camera is one of the only things he'd kept from before, and it has videos with everyone on it. he watches them sometimes so he can hear your voice, see your face.

"peter! you look so cute in your little lab coat," you say behind the camera. "babe, you can't call me cute in here," peter groans. you zoom in on him setting up some test tubes. "yeah, you think you're so tough cause you're an avenger. spider-man can't be cute, he's too big and scary," you tease.

"maybe not scary, but he's big for sure." peter smirks at the camera. "i can confirm," you smirk at him. peter's eyes widen. "woah, y/n. i meant, like, my arms. you're so unprofessional today, i think i'm gonna need a new camerawoman," peter shakes his head playfully, pouring something into a beaker.

"you can't replace me. i'm irreplaceable," you insist. "yeah. i know you are," peter says, and means it. he can make out a smile in your voice. "anyways, since you're so tough, why don't you take off the coat? and the goggles? i guess you don't need them."

"i can't! if doctor strange comes back and sees, he'll say i’m-"

"-violating safety precautions and being stupidly, dangerously irresponsible."

doctor strange lands on the linoleum floor of the lab, his cloak trailing behind him. peter has his goggles on his head, so he quickly pulls them down. you prop the camera up against a stool subtly, all three of you coming into the frame.

"we're dealing with the quantum realm, parker, something neither you nor i completely understand. let's not take our chances." strange puts on his own pair of lab goggles, giving both you and peter a stern look. you make a face at the camera. "yes, sir. i mean, stephen. i mean... yeah, stephen," peter stutters.

you take his hand to calm his nerves. he laces your fingers together with a grateful smile.

"where's banner?" doctor strange asks. "still not here yet. scott and i started setting up, though," peter answers. "you're certainly no world renowned scientists, but fine. i trust you know enough to handle glassware," strange says sarcastically.

"and what have you been doing, practicing your magic tricks?" you ask doctor strange. "they're not tricks, it's a mystic art. but yes, actually. things work differently in the quantum realm than they do here," he replies, narrowing his eyes at you.

"thanks for clearing that up. wow, you know a lot about this stuff. i can see why they made you sorcerer supreme," you say smugly. doctor strange closes his eyes, visibly irritated. "no, they chose wong. you know that," he says in a monotone. peter bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

you'd naturally met the avengers over the years you and peter were dating. everybody loved you because peter loved you, and they loved him. doctor strange was another story. peter hardly felt like strange even tolerated him, let alone his girlfriend he was constantly getting humbled by.

you figured that if he did it to peter, someone should do it to him. peter always appreciated you having his back in those moments.

you and strange had your banter, though, and he did love peter in his own way. clearly, considering that he brainwashed the whole world for him on multiple occasions.

"is there a reason you're here exactly?" doctor strange questions you. "yeah, to watch you make pym particles." you shrug. he sighs. "make– it doesn't work that way." doctor strange turns to peter. "what is she doing here?" he crosses his arms over his chest, his cloak mirroring his stance.

"y/n's always here," peter innocently replies, swinging your connected hands back and forth.

"yeah, she's one of us!"

"who said that?" doctor strange demands, looking around the lab.

"it's me, i’m tiny. hold on." scott suddenly grows from the size of an ant to his normal, human size, appearing next to the three of you. doctor strange and his cloak jump backwards.

"have you been here this whole time?" strange's voice raises in anger. "um, yeah. pay attention much?" scott scoffs. "pete already told you, we're setting up. hey, y/n/n." you and scott fist bump. "pete," he claps peter's shoulder. peter nods at him. "hey, scott. keep up the good work."

"solidarity among the bug men, isn't that sweet?" doctor strange dryly remarks. scott points a finger at him. "listen, wizard. you should be nicer to me. i’m your ticket to this whole quantum thing."

the two of them start to argue, so you and peter sneak away. you grab peter's camera again and film him as he finishes setting up for their experiment.

"i can't believe we got all that on video," peter laughs out. "yeah, that was some avengers reality tv shit," you agree. peter tightens more test tubes in place. some have pym particles in them, others empty. you suddenly take peter's chin between your fingers, prompting him to stop what he's doing and look up.

"you know what i was trying to say before? i know you're tough, and strong, but i’ll never just see you as spider-man. you're peter."

his doe eyes lock with yours behind the camera.

"and you might be spider-man to the world, but you'll always be my peter."

peter stops the video. he rewinds it to the part where you call him your peter, and then rewinds it again. tears begin to well up in his eyes. at the time, it was just something sweet you said. you could never have known how much it would mean to him now.

peter curls up on his pillow. he's gripping the camera with both hands, holding on tightly like it's you, because it's the closest thing he has to you. tears drip down his face and land on the screen as the rest of the video plays.

"thanks, baby. i'm not that strong, though. i just try to act like it because i’m scared. this all gets pretty intimidating sometimes," peter admits. "i know, but you deserve to be here. they need you here, and i think you're strong for coming," you reassure him. you flip the camera so it's showing your face and the back of peter's head.

peter kisses your cheek, then your lips lovingly. he can't tell watching it back, but he assumes he tries for more because you giggle and turn your face away.

"okay, guys! we hashed everything out!" scott calls in the background. "something of that sort," doctor strange mutters. "and y/n, since you insist on being here..." the cloak of levitation flies over to you and forms a makeshift hand, holding out a lab coat and goggles. "we have a dress code."

peter snickers at you. you put down the camera and take the lab gear, glaring at doctor strange, who smiles wickedly. strange's cloak floats behind you and taps on the camera lens, alerting his attention to it. his smile drops.

"are you two idiots recording in my lab?" doctor strange asks you and peter. "bruce's lab," scott corrects him. "yeah, it's mr. bruce's. i mean, doctor bruce's. i mean, doctor banner's-" peter cuts himself off when doctor strange comes marching over. he narrowly avoids bumping into him.

strange's cloak swipes the camera off the lab desk. you reach for it, but the cloak floats higher.

"well, until mr. doctor bruce banner shows up, i’m in charge, and this is strictly confidential," doctor strange decides.

"but we're not gonna show anyone, it's just for memories!" peter defends. "bruce always lets us record," you add. strange grabs the camera. "coat and goggles on. now," he reprimands you, scowling at the camera as he shuts it off.

peter actually finds himself laughing when the video ends. he misses you and his team so much, but watching his old videos has been comforting. he's exhausted now, both physically and emotionally, so he gets under the covers and lets himself drift off to the sounds of your voice as the next video plays.

there's a piece of you in each one, and a piece of peter parker, too. the real peter parker — yours. he'll always belong to you, even if you don't know it.

tags

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety @girlinlovewithlove @marvelgurl @superlegend216 @angelinabelovedballerina @moniffazictress11 @superlegend216 @doubledizzy22 @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @starlight-starks @hollandsangel @ellebutnotwoods @tayyx @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @winchestersgirl222  @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @itsjanedeluca @idkeverythingistakennn @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana @deanswifeyy @marvelita86 @uhhhj13iguess

[onlyforsebastianstan]

Breaking Bucky

Summary:

Set in 1940s Brooklyn, this story follows you, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers, lifelong best friends navigating the complexities of love and jealousy during wartime. Bucky, a charming playboy, dismisses your feminine side, treating you like “one of the guys” while parading his dates in front of you. Despite your unspoken love for him, he insists you’re not the dating type. When Steve, newly transformed by the super-soldier serum, pretends to court you to make Bucky jealous, tensions rise.

Genre:

Historical Romance | Slight Angst | Jealousy

The dance hall was alive with the brassy wail of trumpets and the shuffle of polished shoes on the wooden floor. Brooklyn’s wartime energy pulsed through the crowd—soldiers on leave, girls in victory rolls, and the bittersweet hum of a world that didn’t know what tomorrow held. You, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers had been inseparable since you were kids, dodging trouble and sharing dreams in the backstreets. But lately, the air between you three crackled with something new, something unspoken.

Bucky was the same old charmer, a playboy with a smile that could talk his way out of anything. Every week, he’d waltz into the hall with a different girl on his arm, each one flashier than the last. He’d parade them past you, tossing you a grin as he spun them onto the dance floor.

“Whaddaya think, doll?” he’d say, his latest date giggling as she clung to him. “She’s a knockout, right?”

You’d force a smile, swallowing the ache in your chest. “Sure, Buck. She’s swell. Just like the one last week.”

He’d laugh, mussing your hair like you were his kid sister. “Stick to bein’ our pal, kid. You ain’t the datin’ type.”

That stung, though you never let it show. You weren’t all frills and lipstick like his girls, but you had your own charm—slacks and a sharp tongue, a girl who could keep up with him and Steve in a scrap or a laugh. You’d loved Bucky for years, a quiet ache that lived in stolen glances and brushed-off compliments. But he never saw you as anything more than a friend. He’d made that clear, dismissing your feminine side like it didn’t exist.

Then Steve changed everything. The scrawny kid who’d always been in Bucky’s shadow came back from that army program looking like a Greek god. The first time you saw him, striding into the diner with broad shoulders and a new swagger, your jaw dropped.

“Steve?” you said, cola fizzing over your fingers. “That you?”

He grinned, a little shy but steadier than before. “Yeah, it’s me. Guess I grew a bit.”

Bucky, slouched against the counter, froze. His eyes flicked between you and Steve, catching the way you stared. His jaw twitched, but he covered it with a laugh. “Well, hell, punk. You tryin’ to steal my thunder now?”

Steve just chuckled, but his eyes lingered on you. Bucky saw that too.

A few days later, you and Steve were at the diner, splitting a plate of fries. Bucky was off with another dame, probably charming her at some jukebox joint. Steve leaned in, his voice low.

“I told Bucky I like you,” he said, his new confidence making his words bold. “Told him I wanna ask you out.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Steve was your best friend, but your heart was knotted up with Bucky. “Steve, I… I don’t—”

He held up a hand, a sly glint in his eye. “Hold on. When I told him, you know what he said? That I deserve better than you. Said you’re not a guy’s type.”

Your stomach twisted. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, but his grin was scheming. “Thing is, I think he’s full of it. I think he’s crazy about you but too stubborn to admit it. So, how about we shake him up? Pretend we’re together, make him jealous. See if he cracks.”

You hesitated, the hurt of Bucky’s words stinging deep. Not a guy’s type. You’d spent years hoping he’d see you, really see you. Maybe this was the push he needed. “Alright, Steve. Let’s do it.”

The plan kicked off the next Saturday at the dance hall. You traded your usual slacks for a dress that hugged your curves, the kind of outfit Bucky’s girls wore. When you walked in with Steve, his arm looped through yours, heads turned. Including Bucky’s.

He was by the bar, mid-flirt with a redhead in a polka-dot dress, when he saw you. His smile faltered. His eyes swept over your dress, then snapped to Steve’s hand on your waist. His grip on his glass tightened, knuckles whitening.

“Looks like he’s noticin’,” Steve whispered, steering you toward the dance floor. “Let’s give him a show.”

You nodded, heart racing. Steve pulled you close as the band played a slow tune, his hands gentle but deliberate. You could feel Bucky’s eyes burning into you from across the room, but when you glanced over, he was back to charming his date, laughing too loud, like he didn’t care. Your chest ached. Maybe Steve was wrong. Maybe Bucky didn’t feel anything.

Steve sensed your doubt. “We need to up the ante,” he murmured as the song ended. “Follow my lead.”

He guided you to a quieter corner of the hall, near the edge of the dance floor, where the lights were dim and a pillar blocked most of the view. From Bucky’s spot at the bar, the angle was perfect—or perfectly deceiving. Steve leaned in, his face close to yours, his hand cupping your cheek. To anyone watching—especially Bucky—it looked like he was kissing you, his lips hovering just a fraction from yours, his broad frame shielding the truth.

Your heart pounded, not from Steve’s closeness but from the thought of Bucky seeing this. “You sure about this?” you whispered.

“Trust me,” Steve said, his voice low, playful. “If this doesn’t break him, nothin’ will.”

Across the room, Bucky froze. His date was talking, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on you and Steve, on the way Steve’s hand cradled your face, the way your bodies were pressed close. From where he stood, it looked real—too real. His glass hit the bar with a clink, and before his date could protest, he was striding across the room, his face a storm of anger and something deeper.

“What the hell’s this?” he snapped, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and yanking him back. Steve stumbled, playing the part perfectly, his hands raised in mock innocence.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just dancin’ with my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. His eyes flicked to you, and the raw hurt in them made your breath catch. “Since when?”

You opened your mouth, but the words stuck. This was the plan, but seeing Bucky like this—his jaw clenched, his hands trembling—made it feel too real, too cruel.

“Since she decided she wanted someone who sees her,” Steve said, stepping closer to Bucky, his voice steady but pointed. “Not someone who treats her like she’s invisible.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to you, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice rough. “That I don’t see you?”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “You tell me, Buck. You’re the one who said I’m not a guy’s type. That Steve deserves better.”

His face twisted, like you’d slapped him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “I said it because… because I didn’t want him takin’ you. I didn’t want anyone takin’ you.”

Your breath hitched. Steve stepped back, giving you space, his part in the plan done. The crowd around you faded, the music a distant hum. It was just you and Bucky now, the truth hanging heavy between you.

“Then why didn’t you say somethin’?” you asked, voice shaking. “All these years, you parade your girls in front of me, tell me I’m nothin’ but a pal. What am I to you, Bucky?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild, desperate. “You’re everything,” he said, the words spilling out like they’d been trapped too long. “I’ve been tryin’ to ignore it, tryin’ to keep you close without losin’ you. I’m a mess, doll. I chase girls because it’s easier than facin’ how I feel about you. But seein’ you with him—” He gestured at Steve, his voice breaking. “Seein’ him kiss you? I can’t do it. I can’t lose you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “He didn’t kiss me,” you said softly. “It was just for show. To make you see.”

Bucky blinked, his anger faltering, replaced by confusion. “What?”

Steve chimed in, his grin wide. “It was a setup, pal. You were too damn stubborn to admit you love her, so we gave you a push.”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and Steve, realization dawning. For a moment, he looked like he might deck Steve, but then his shoulders sagged, and he turned back to you, his expression raw. “You let me think that… to get to me?”

You stepped closer, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “I had to, Buck. I’ve been waitin’ for you to see me for years. I’m done waitin’.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, without another word, he closed the distance, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you. It was fierce, desperate, full of all the things he’d never said. You kissed him back, hands fisting in his jacket, pouring every ounce of your heart into it.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick. “I love you, doll. Always have.”

You laughed, tears spilling over. “Yeah, you’re an idiot. But you’re mine.”

Steve, still lingering nearby, clapped his hands together, grinning. “Told ya it’d work. You’re welcome, jerk.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but there was no heat in it. He pulled you close, his arm around your waist, and for the first time, you felt like he saw you—not as a friend, not as one of the guys, but as you.

The band struck up another tune, and Bucky leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “Dance with me, doll. No more games.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “No more games.”

[kokii-omii]

Viri's dream for book 7

i was supposed to post this earlier but i fell asleep lmao-

but anyway-

--------------------------

Viri is the last person they need to wake up for the Octa Quartet, but this is before any of the Octa trio, so Jade ,Floyd and Azul aren't here yet

its just the dream team (Ortho, Sebek ,Silver, ramshackle duo, and Luci) , and Leo with the Twins + Ezmond & Jamil

they show up in the ocean once again but its closer to the shoreline than it is to the bottom

Leo realizes that he recognizes this specific shoreline, and that its the one leading up to Viri's house on land (i say house but its legit just a castle)

and he tells them that Viri might be at his house and that they should be ready to sneak past the giant wall when they get there

but when they get to the surface Leo is surprised to see that the wall he was so familiar with from his childhood is now

GONE

the castle is now directly by the shoreline and you can even hear a party thats happening inside

Viri on the balcony sees Leo in the water and immediately rushes down to greet him and jumps in the water to where he is

he almost misses his landing btw, he only landed to where Leo was cuz Leo used his UM on Viri to reel him in (silly boy)

he doesn't recognize the twins or anyone else except for Leo, and he invites them all to his party that's happening right now, but he says he's gotta ask his step mom first so they all have to meet her

Leo who knows what kind of woman Viri's stepmom is tells everyone else to be prepared for the worst, cuz the woman is very judging

but to his horror, she's kind and understanding in this dream, she greets them with a big smile and greets Leo with a hug because she's glad that her son's best friend made it to the party and ushers them to the banquet

Leo is evidently creeped out at this but the twins keep him straight and tell him to focus on a way to wake Viri up

He tells them to split up and keep gathering information and lay low for now, so Grim immediately rushes to the buffet with Yuu trying to stop him

Ezmond's looking around the house with Jamil and finding lots of photos of his family, as well as anything that might be useful

sebek and silver look around the kitchen and see a huge cake that's literally the size of a whole person

while Leo and the twins are tailing Viri trying to get his attention but he's very busy greeting guests at his party

they all group back to see what they found, Ezmond and Jamil tell them that they found a lot of photos but found it surprising that Viri's house rarely has any paintings at all

Grim just tells them that the buffet is really good and that he wants to go back for seconds

Sebek and Silver tell them that they didn't find anything interesting in the kitchen except for a huge cake

Viri's whole childhood changed in his dream, his stepmom is nice and didn't leave him alone in his room therefore he didn't draw as much

Which gives Leo an unfortunate idea, cuz he realizes that viri is like this because the incident that happened in his last party didn't happen, therefore Viri stayed on land but was still close to the sea because the wall isn't there anymore

Leo tells them that they have to recreate that incident and maybe that'll jog up Viri's memory into waking him up

so he tells everyone to cause a scene but to not get noticed, otherwise the plan will be ruined

he tells Alfred to use his UM so that they can sneak in the kitchen so Leo can enchant the cake with his own UM

he tells Reese and Ezmond to use their spells to cause a ruckus when he gives them the signal

and the rest are responsible for crowd control

however an unexpected guest shows up, its Azul there to greet his brother and celebrate his party with him (its the darkness trying to make viri stay in the dream)

and more bad news, grim kinda pisses off one of the chefs because he stole a crab dish fresh off the plate and ends up forwarding the plan before Leo even gives the signal but oh well

Jamil and Ezmond are instead tasked to chase after Grim while Alfred and Leo carry out the plan, and Reese and the rest are fighting the darkness

and the place gets trashed

it just gets so messy and Viri is in such distress but its working because he's starting to remember

they're thinking of not tipping the cake over to Viri cuz it seems like he's starting to wake up but of course while grim was running away he runs to where the cake was and runs under the table which makes the chef flip the table to get to him and ends up getting the cake tipped over on viri anyway-

and that just makes Viri breakdown and fall into the darkness

to which Leo jumps in and after much consideration the twins jump in too (Alfred didn't wanna cuz it looked gross but Reese threw him)

--------------------------

I'll make a part 2 of what happens in his second dream and him facing his ob self

[princessbumbles-blog]

ꪮꪊ᥅ ᦓꪻꪖ᥅ᦓ

ᴡʟғ!Aʙʙʏ × ʙᴇsᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content: fluff; Friends that like each other but are too dumb; Abby and more Abby

June, 2039

Pt. 3 - Afections

You were sitting on your rooms floor, Your back against your unmade bed, feeling your hands shake slightly against your will, when the door opened and closed.

"Dumbass" Abby's voice reaches you, together with her strong footsteps.

She went down those couple of stairs to your side of the room and stopped, staring at you.

"Did you really need to hide in here?"

She is joking, using that usual voice tone for moments when she is unsure about what to do.

"What happened?"

You really didn't want to speak, not because you were mad but because it felt like torture to make a sound. Any vibration seemed to make your anxiety worse.

"The usual" you manage to say.

"Which one"

"Don’t make me talk, Abby" you ask and the silence lingers.

You focus your eye's attention on the animals down there through the window in front of you. You loved them, the cows and the shep, they were so simple yet sometimes difficult to deal with, but it was the kind of trouble you feel grateful for having.

If nature is your biggest problem then your life is good.

"Nick told me you were out there and..."

"Maybe I should change positions" You interrupt her "And work on the farms"

Abby frowns. "You would hate cleaning their shit," she smiles, trying to strike one in you.

But It doesn't work.

"Better then having to kill a fucking kid" you say, in a monotonous voice tone.

You feel Abby's eyes on you, waiting for more explanation, but you can't, so you just bite the inside of your cheek.

"So, Nick said you encountered Scars and it all went to shit" Abby says "What happened?"

"Nothing"

"Why don’t you talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to!" You raise your voice. "I dont want to remember what happened"

Abby notices your shaking hands and looks again into your eyes. Glossy. You want to cry, but, like usual, you are trying too hard to block it.

She crosses her arms in front of your chest. "Get up"

You roll your eyes.

"Get up" She insists "You know what's going to happen if you don't"

You sigh, annoyed, blurting a "for fuck's sake" before aggressively getting up from the floor.

"Here, happy?"

"{Your Name}...." She calls your name softly.

Your eyes avoid hers, looking everywhere. Your hands find your arms whose skin is picked by your nails, a sign that you are either nervous or anxious, maybe both. Abby keeps her eyes on you, knowing it will eventually break you.

It took a while to figure out how to make you open up to her, after a lot of insults from you. Abby hates it in some part, because she always cries like a baby in front of you, melting instantly, but you are built like a rock.

She wants to make you melt too, so she repeats your name, gently, again and again before she starts to see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You can tell me. You know that. I'm here" she says.

A knot forms in your throat. "I...hm...I...the kid tried to....you know" a tear falls "he tried to ....so I ...shot him. On the head"

More tears fall and you hug yourself, still avoiding your friend's eyes.

"Then my hands started to shake and I.....I lost it."

"You had a panick attack?"

You nood, fast, trying to controll the huge wave of tears that were threatening your voice.

"I killed a kid, Abby I...a fucking kid for fucks sake. I killed a boy" you start to rumble, scratching your arms like your skin was bothering you.

Abby's hands flew to your wrists "Hey, hey...I know, I know" and she squeezed them, pulling them off your arms. "I'm sorry that happened. It's alright, you didn’t mean it. Unfortunately, it is the most common thing around here."

"It shouldn't be"

"Yhea, but....think that maybe you did a favour to that kid. He is at peace now, and not hiding away with hammers and wars"

You swallow, anxiously trying to find some relief on Abby's words, but the sensations on your body where corrupting your thoughts, disseminating panic everywhere.

"I feel sick" you cry out.

"It is just the anxiety" Abby says, but she knows dam well your fear of vomit is something irrational and extremely overwhelming.

"I feel so sick, Abby ...I'm scared." Your hands began to shake again under Abby's grip. "I'm so scared....Abby....Abby.."

"Shhh, I know. Breath in and out, it is not real"

Your lower lip trembles. Fuck, it is so rare to see you like this, Abby's chest tightened.

"Abby..." your voice breaks "What if I..."

"Nothing is going to happen" She says, with a determined tone "Come here"

As you feel your friends arms around you, you let yourself cry out the panic. Abby smeels the same, pine, so familiar.

"Everything's fine, nothing is going to happen" She repeats like a mantra, just like her father used to say. Like she wished someone had done that to her after his death.

But now, she had someone she wanted to protect, and it gave her a sense of comfort.

The next day, Abby was at Isaac's office, frustrated.

"She is too good. We need strong soldiers out there, strong, " Isaac repeats himself.

"Fuck that" Abby says "She did enough. You have a lot of strong soliders. Put her on the farms, she will be useful"

For some reason, Abby couldn't bear the thought of you out there again, dealing with shit that had nothing to do with you and ending up like last night.

"She will remain on ground coverage, end of story"

"I can take her shifts!" The girl exclaims

But Isaac just sighs.

"Is this friendship going to bring me trouble?" He raises his voice "There’s already you and Owen. Now, this?"

Silence.

"You better focus on your responsibilities, Abby, or do I have to intervene? I need loyal soldiers, not brats. Are we clear?"

Abigail stares at him, feeling the anger rise up and down her chest.

"Yes, Sir"

She had no other option.

"Good."

It was unfair. So unfair. Abby walked down the hallway with strong steps, frowning so deeply that people moved out of her away faster than usual.

She never cared for the injustices of the system Isaac had put up, but she was alone before and her goal occupied all the space in her mind.

But now, you existed. Your friendship started as something casual but it developed to something stronger, even tho Abby didn’t like to admit it.

You became an essential part of her life, like you have always been there in the first place.

"Hey Abs," Owen's voice makes Abby stop on her tracks.

There is only two people on that place that call her by the nickname her father used with her: You and Owen.

Him because he always did, and you because you started using it naturally, with such care and happiness that it actually gave Abby some sense of familiarity she hadn't felt in years.

"Hey" Abby says, turning around.

He stared at her in silence for a couple of seconds. "Bad day?"

Abby sighs, nodding with her head. "Isaac's being a dick"

Owen scoffs. They walk together with their shoulders bumping on each other. Too close to Abby’s liking, but she can't resist.

"It really sucks," Owen says after hearing what happened to you.

"Yhea, I'm really scared for her"

"She's a big girl. I'm sure she will be able to handle herself"

"She will, but...He could give her a break. I don't understand why he refuses"

"I mean, no one should receive special treatment"

Abby looks at Owen with a frown. His words were too direct and too brutal.

"Why are you being so mean?" She asks, automatically stepping away from him.

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just understand that if Isaac starts making favours like these to everyone, people would take advantage of that. He needs to give everyone the same treatment and opportunities, and that's on us to manage it"

Abby keeps staring at him, up and down, judging his words, trying to understand if he was being serious.

"Gosh, don't look at me so suprised!" He complains, with a smile.

"For someone so liberal and unhappy with your life, you sounded like a true loyal fucking soldier" The big girl crosses her arms in front of her chest, making Owen roll his eyes.

"C'mon Abs, I may be unhappy, but that doesn’t mean that I don't understand what Isaac needs to do to maintain a place like this functioning"

"So it is okay to ignore his soldiers' struggles?"

"No, but keeping this perception in mind helps me to not freak out. Like, I'm the only one who can make my life easier. " He opens his arms a little, like it is the quote of the year,"Maybe it can help {your name} too"

The girl remains in silence, digesting it, while he observes her. It's been a while since they had spent proper time together.

"You two are inseparable now" He comments "Is she that good of a friend?"

"What type of a question is that?" Abby laughs.

"Is she better than me?" He teases, bumping his elbow on hers.

"You are such an idiot" Abby says, just a tease she always does to him...like old times.

"Alright, but answer me. Do I have competition?"

"Holy shit Owen " She takes some steps foward, challenging "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs. "Please. I know nobody is better then me"

"Careful, your girlfriend may interpret this wrong"

"Always using the girlfriend card, uh?"

Both let out some laughs, like old friends catching up. But it wasn’t like that.

Owen was feeling weird, he hated it, how jealous he actually was because before you, he was the only one deeply close to Abby, but suddenly you appeared out of nowhere.

He had a girlfriend. He liked her. He and Abby were past now, it didn't work. But he hated the feeling of losing Abby. He hated that maybe you making her feel the way he used to make her feel.

However, he doesn't really hate you. He actually respects you, for being able to crack Abby open.

"She's weird, in a good away" Abby says, quietly "she makes me feel less alien, and she is also cool to be around"

It was a very short version of what Abby could actually say, but she didn't feel comfortable telling Owen about it.

"Good. That's good, Abs"

Later, after work, Abby entered the cafeteria that was buzzing with voices and laughs. She approached the usual table with some food, sitting by your side.

"That's why there's no really true Americans" Manny was saying, with his mouth full of food.

"Of course. We all are a mix of communities ...or nationalities, if you want to call it like that." You speak, giving Abby a quick smile.

"But if you were born in America then you are American" Nick says, sitting by Manny's side.

Abby nooded to some people passing by. That place was full, a little unsual, but maybe it was summer lightning up people's modds.

"Yes, but we sre discussing the blood argument. Like, what the fuck does being a pure American mean? Being white and dumb? We are a mix of people from everywhere. Oh, we are descendents from...shut up. Even cow's shit goes on the equation" You argue, angrily shoving some rice into your mounth.

Abby arches her eyebrown. "What hell are you three talking about?"

"Your girl here is throwing her intellectual knowledge at us," Nick mocks you, throwing a bit of rice at your arm.

"I'm just communicating the facts," you defend yourself. "You know, some of us actually read books, not just patrol schedules. STOP THROWING THE RICE AT ME GOD DAMMIT!!"

Manny and Abby laugh. "We heard Robert say some problematic shit earlier," Manny says. "She is calling him a fascist," he points at you.

"And isn't he? Oh wait, Nick, do you know what a facist is?"

"You are so fucking funny, aren't you?"

Abby's gaze stays on you, admiring the smile adorning your face as you tease Nick. It was so good to see you alive again. Your version from last night had nothing to do with this fierce and stubborn girl. Your eyes were shinning.

When she turns her head back to her plate, she notices Manny staring with a grin.

"What?"

"Nothing"

After eating, Abby slapped your arm slightly, signaling for you to get up and get out of there.

"Are you sleeping on her room again?" Manny asks, making her look between him and Nick awkwardly.

"Yhea?"

"Just checking. If I'm lucky I will be able to bring that nurse with me tonight" He blinks at Nick who laughs proudly at his friend.

In your room, your roomate, Max, was already sleeping, so you and Abby layed down on your bed, reading your books in silence by the lamp's light on the bedside tables.

After half an hour, you two put away your books and turn the lights off, staying in the silence of the dark, laying on your sides, staring at each other.

"How was your day?" Abby whispers.

"Good, I guess. Maybe just normal. And yours?"

"Normal as well"

You lift your hand, tracing the sides of Abby’s arm, like you do so many times.

"Can I braid your hair tomorrow?" You ask

"Sure"

Your fingers dance on her skin, building that nice sense of comfort in Abby's chest. She closes her eyes for some seconds, enjoying the feeling.

You drag your hands up her face, tracing the lines of it with your fingertips, slowly, feeling every inch, every curve of her nose, every bit of texture. Then, you slip one finger over her lips and she is quick to bite you.

You laugh, covering your mouth with your other hand to muffle the sound.

"Idiot" you whispered, and the only thing in response was Abby's muffled laugh.

Suddenly Abby's fingers are on your face, doing the same thing. It was not the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. You two didn't know why you were doing it, it just felt too good to stop.

You closed your eyes as well, like if you focused enough, Abby could feel all the love you felt for her with her touch.

When her fingers reached your lips, Abigail was expecting some revengeful bite, instead, you kiss them, gently and lightly. She doesn't react, just stays there with her hand, and you kiss the knots on her fingers again, and again.

It was during nights like these, in the dark of your room, when the two of you would perform acts of affection, like it was natural. The limits of friendship didn't seem to exist, or maybe you two just didn't need it. Deep down, you wanted to share this kind of intimacy, and doing it with each other seemed...right? None of you judge the other, and together, you slowly explore, crossing the line step by step, without saying a word about it.

However, It was so confusing to you. On one hand, it happened too naturally and it felt too good to need to name it, but on the other hand, questions would rise.

Was this wrong?

Suddenly, you join your toungue, licking her fingers and making Abby pull them away. You muffled another laugh as Abby makes indignation sounds.

"Ew!!" She laughs "you are so dead"

You feel her hands grabbing you and her body coming closer so you scream silently, fighting Abby away but failing miserably, receiving her toungue licking your cheek in a pretty nasty way.

"Abigaillll!!!" You complain, using the sheets to clean your skin.

"Someone got what she deserved" she mocked you.

Abigail loved these nights, where she felt so free and careless. Without any pressure, any responsibilities or drama. It was just the two of you, laughing around, feeling good.

She never really questioned these acts of affection. At least not yet.

The two of you drifted into sleep, still tangled in the warmth that lingered after your playful clash.

In the morning, you woke up naturally, with your eyes opening slowly as though stirred by a breeze.

It was rare, but this morning, your body felt truly rested. Abby was still sleeping beside you, unmoved by the world, so you stayed still, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing.

Her hand, as always, had found its way towards you in slumber, reaching, half-curled, almost touching. Did she know her hand sought you, even in her sleep.

So, you took it quietly, weaving your fingers with hers, tenderly, careful not to wake her. Her hand was so broad, calloused by the weight of life’s demands, but still pale and oddly delicate in your grasp. You thought, for a heartbeat, about kissing her knuckles again, but the thought drew too much of the world back in, and so you stayed still.

Everything, in that moment, was perfect. Despite all the violence you had to face every day, Abigail somehow made it all feel distant.

You smirked quietly to yourself. Manny truly did deserve a life changing head in for bringing her into your orbit.

With a sigh, you nestled just a little closer, forehead resting against her shoulder and her hand still curled in yours, now resting gently against your chest.

It felt so good.

Suddenly, Abby’s body shifted in her sleep, rolling towards you, and in one smooth, unthinking motion, she wrapped herself around you, pulling you tight like a child clutching a stuffed toy.

You froze.

Never had the two of you slept like this before. It was… intimate in a way you hadn’t dared imagine.

But Abby didn’t stir beyond that so it must’ve been an accident. Of course it was.

You tried to shift but Abby weighed like a fallen tree so you surrendered with a sigh, already spiraling through the thoughts of how impossibly awkward this would be when she woke up. Yet the heat of her body was an inviting weight. Your eyes began to flutter closed not out of sleep, but surrender, and gently nestled your face against the curve of her neck.

God. She smelled so good. Like something sweet and quiet.

Like the smell of a newborn soft and innocent and warm. You knew that scent. You’d once held a baby in the maternity wing of the base. But Abby also smelled like sunlight.

You’d only seen the sea once, on a rare warm morning where the waves met a meadow strewn with tiny white flowers the kind used in chamomile tea, you’d later learned.

She was that exact memory: brightness and breeze. And here you were, face buried against her skin, drowning in the scent of home.

Minutes passed like mist. Then, slowly, Abby stirred.

Still heavy with sleep, she shifted. Her brow furrowed faintly when she realized her arms were around something. She looked down and found you tucked there, but she didn’t jolt or pull away. She just yawned, adjusted her limbs, and let her eyes fall closed again.

How could this not mean something to her?

“Good morning,” she mumbled, voice cracked with sleep.

“Good morning,” you whispered into her neck.

“Sorry. Rolled right over you.”

“It’s fine.”

She shifted again, the weight of her arm draping back over you. “You’re so warm,” she said not annoyed, “I should get up, but you’re making it really hard.”

You laughed, though something cold unspooled in your belly. “You’re the one who tried to smother me in your sleep.”

At that, Abby deliberately collapsed her full weight on top of you just long enough to make your heart spike in panic. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she rolled away and sat up, leaving you alone under the sheets.

She stretched, her long, sun-worn hair cascading down her back.

“Have you been having any nightmares?” you asked.

“Nope,” she replied casually, already rummaging for her usual pants.

“So I’m officially anti-nightmare,” you teased, making Abby turn to shoot you a playful grimace.

Once dressed, she ran her fingers through her hair in a quick sweep. “Weren’t you supposed to braid this?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Come here.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, and you moved behind her, kneeling, your fingers already parting strands with practiced care. You started the tight, perfectly symmetrical braid she wore every day, and if done wrong, could break the day before it even began.

You day unrolled separately. Isaac wanted to catch up with you, witch made Abby nervous, while she was sent to the medical wing to help to carry boxes of new found stuff.

It was boring, but definitely better then going outside. She was not in a mood for that.

"So, how's the married life been?" Max, your roomate, asked.

Max was a very versatile girl. She could be doing anything. Teaching children how to read, fixing the jeeps or helping with an amputation. Somehow, she had multiple jobs, and today she was giving a hand together with Abigail.

"What?"

"I'm just kidding," She smiles. "I just noticed you have been sleeping a lot in our room"

Abby puts down a box with a loud bang. "Yhea, I mean, It is better then sleeping in the same space as Manny"

Manny was always the best excuse.

"Mhm, I see. If I had a very close friend I would probably have sleepovers every night as well. I guess I understand"

Abby noods, hoping it to be the end of the conversation. Oh, but she does't know Max.

"Actually" She goes again, opening a box and taking a bag of something Abby doesn't pay attention to "I can't spend that much time with my friends, I always need some alone time to recharge, ya know? However....I don't mind being with my booboo everyday"

"Your what??" Abby blinks, confused.

Max laughs. "Your face is so funny. Booboo is what I call my....crushes? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Romantic interests? My special person? You know, that one person we can't get enough of"

The way Max is smiling, like she knows something or is accusing Abby of something she can't quite grasp.

"Right...yhea...I guess" Abby says, not sure what to say or even think.

"Don’t you get tired of {your name}?"

"Hum...No?"

After putting down one more box, Abby realizes Max's smile is even bigger.

"You are acting crazy, dude" Abby notes, looking her up and down. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Do you know {your name} likes girls?"

"What the...yes, I do, Max"

"Hmh. I'm just checking. I have had some friends like that too, you know, close friends. But we always ended up making out"

And with that piece of information, she grabs some medical stuff and turns around, happily disappearing through a door.

Abby stayed behind, frozen in place, realizing just now what Max was trying to imply.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

Note: It's been hard to express my ideas into English. Sorry if some parts are more developed than others. And sorry for the mistakes.

@lia-winther

[narcjsistx]

bunnyiglesias!stranger that when he saw you talking to lavinho the first time, he would never have imagined that you were his daughter. he knew quite well how lavinho loved basking in women, so it was almost natural for him to think that you were just a passing flirt and not his teammate's mysterious daughter

spain wasn't very different from brazil, you certainly loved your homeland much more, but returning to the barcha campus didn't bother you. it had been a really long time since you last saw your father, and you just wanted to hug him after spending months apart: he in italy for a soccer meeting, you in brazil with your grandparents. it would have been nice to go back to normality, in your apartment in barcelona

arriving at the campus, you threw yourself into his arms: hugging him again was a pleasant feeling, but not lasting because of someone. before you can notice it a very tall boy approaches your father, and you notice the same emblem of the spanish team, sign of his belonging to the barcha

"lavi? where did you meet this señorita? in italy?" the boy asks, winking at your father. a slight annoyance appears on your face, but your father hugs you by the shoulders, bursting out laughing "this señorita is my daughter, iglesias!" he says in his usual loud tone, and instead of seeing embarrassment on the face of the boy who probably mistook you for a passing flirt, only an amused expression forms on his face "oooh! i didn't know you had one" he says amused, and you clear your throat putting a hand forward "nice to meet you. im y/n" you say with your gaze down, because even if you're annoyed by him you know that the manners of introducing yourself are everything, and he grabs your hand, shaking it a bit "bunny iglesias"

bunnyiglesias!acquaintance that from that day on he simply started to pay much more attention to your presence in the team campus. over time he remembered how many times he had already seen you in the past, thinking that you were the girlfriend of some other player

your father, since his return, had obviously returned to train daily at the barcha campus. in the past you had often accompanied him just to avoid spending time at home alone, but since he returned you had decided to start accompanying him more to simply spend more time with him, due to the months of distance. you didn't mind spending time there, the staff treated you with respect and you even joked with some of the team members. and yet, every time you turned around, that boy's face was never too far from you

"did you accompany your father today too?" he asks walking not far from you, just a few steps away. you huff, continuing to walk towards your destination, the canteen "apparently yes. don't you have to train?" you ask trying to sound polite, because telling him to leave you alone would perhaps be a little rude. you hear him chuckle "i don't need it! im already a genius at the sweet age of 19" he says, and this time you're the one surprised "19? we are the same age" you say turning around, making him stop a short distance away otherwise he would have risked falling on you. he tilts his head and smiles at you, towering a bit due to the height difference "at least between us someone is making their youth count" he says, and if before you thought you still had to be polite, now you know you can use your entire vocabulary of insults

"filho da puta..." you whisper nervously, striding back to the cafeteria, whispering more insults in portuguese. how can he say things like that to you if he doesn't even know you, but just stares at you from afar? who gave him all this confidence?

bunnyiglesias!kindafriend who for a LONG TIME thought he was your new friend when in reality you couldn't stand him at all. it suddenly became normal to bother you or just spend more time around you, even though you clearly showed that you wanted him dead

"come on, a simple 1vs1! i'll go easy!" he says bouncing the ball on his knee, changing his gaze between you and the object. you sigh exhausted, continuing to scribble in your notebook "i already told you no. if you want to humiliate someone go get one of those who just arrived" you say neutrally, even if with a hint of sarcasm. he laughs, throwing the ball in the air and making it end up in the net with a dry, calculated gesture

he comes closer, grabbing the water bottle at your side "you're just saying that because you're weak" he says taking a generous helping of water, and you glare at him "well sorry if my dad didn't teach me how to kick a ball when i was little" you say sarcastically, and he shrugs "i still have a hard time believing that you're the daughter of lavinho, that genius monster! and you... you're... simply you" he says, even though he's clearly making fun of you. you take your notebook, slapping it against his leg "cale a boca, você fala demais, seu bobo!" you say annoyed, and he takes his ball back while laughing "you talk like i can understand you" he says amusedly, unlike you that you just want to eliminate him from your life. you hate his cheekiness, his cocky grin, you hate even more the fact that your father adores him because of his skills

bunnyiglesias!friend who simply decided to spend all his free time with you, and you ended up liking him. your relationship is still based entirely on the fact that he annoys you, but now his existence annoys you less

"did you like how i shot the second time?" he asks taking the towel you have in your hand, drying his hair still damp from the shower. you roll your eyes, even as you nod "that was cool. maybe a little theatrical, very un-your style" you say, and your words get mixed up with the screams of the fans in the stadium, still all eager to talk to the barcha players

today there was a match, specifically in one of the biggest stadiums in the city: the camp nou. the match has been over for a while now, but of course you were here the whole time, sitting on the benches reserved for the players' relatives. the team members are now divided between those in the tunnel near the fans and those in the locker room, still cleaning up. you and bunny are in front of the tunnel, while you wait for your father, both of you are aware that journalists have already taken pictures of you. it's not something that bothers you particularly, you and him go out often and so some of your photos have already gone viral, but you are simply great friends. today will be no different, unfortunately, but okay

"what do you mean? that im a terrible player?" he asks jokingly, and you let out a laugh "more or less. maybe i should ask the team manager to move you to ReAl" you say crossing your arms, mentioning the barcha's arch enemy. bunny shakes his head, absolutely against it "i'd rather be slapped by lavi until the day i die" he says, and you burst out laughing. you take the towel in his hands, starting to walk towards the tunnel "first we should find him a reason to slap you" you say, disappearing from the eyes of the fans. bunny follows you, not before making a gesture to the fans "we can definitely find one"

"bunny inglesias disappears in the tunnel with his alleged girlfriend, the daughter of the champion lavinho?" shouts the commentator, but you are already in the tunnel to hear it

bunnyiglesias!bestfriend who simply didn't ask for this title, he just took it. bunny showed you how much he cared about you with small gestures, the ones that no friend had ever done for you. not seeing you together was almost strange, for lavinho and others players

"thank you!" you say taking your coffee, wrapped up in your winter coat. even with the temperature so low, outdoor training didn't stop for the players, especially the first team. your father had already done his shift, but since bunny still had to do his, you didn't mind staying in the cold and watching him

he pats your head taking off his coat, which you take with your free arm "don't worry. so after training dinner at the usual place?" he asks, and you nod with red cheeks, a bit caused by the cold and a bit by his concern "sure! but at least this time let me pay. i don't know why it's been months since you've let me pay a cent" you say disconsolately, but he shakes his head, amused "it's not in my vocabulary to let you pay. not because i want to be a gentleman, but because i would like to eat edible food and not something toxic" he says, then running towards the field. you reflect on his words for a few seconds "HEY! MY FATHER MAKES MORE MONEY THAN YOU, cabeça de vento!" you yell at him, but you are amused by his words. bunny runs towards the field, but turns to send you a flying kiss, to which you react by rolling your eyes even if smiling

clutching your coffee and his coat to your chest, you notice how his scent lingers on the fabric. you hold it a little tighter, trying to ignore the slightly raised heartbeat. you don't know what's happening to both of you lately, but all this attention and gestures have already crossed the line for a while now

bunnyiglesias!situationship who, since he understood that he can touch you without you wishing him the worst, has started to put his arm around your shoulders much more often. an arm became his hands on your waist, and his hands became kisses on cheeks

snuggled up to him under the covers, the january cold doesn't seem so annoying. your house has always been quiet, but since bunny comes more often, you feel much more relaxed. it has become the norm to be hugged under the covers, held tight as if you could escape, justifying the action as pure affection and nothing more. having him so close relaxes you, but at the same time the constant beating in your chest reminds you that you shouldn't be like this: technically, best friends don't do that. you have long thought that you have crossed that line, even if neither of you dares open the topic

"are you still cold?" he whispers, but you shake your head "no no. maybe im even feel to much warm, we've been hugging for too long" you say, but the only answer you feel and want to feel are his lips in your hair, while he gently kisses your head for some seconds "i don't care if you feel warm. im comfortable like this" he says, and you nod, although wondering how he can be comfortable with you pressed against him, like a sardine. his hand gently rubs your side, making you relax as you slowly close your eyes, nestled in the crook of his neck. you hate that you can't kiss him, so you crane your neck slightly, kissing his jaw. you hear him sigh, to chuckle more "the jaw now? next thing what is it, the nose?" he asks, and you shake your head, kissing his neck. he lets out another sigh, tightening his grip on your hips "the neck now, huh? i would have preferred another part" he says

it's moments like this that make you wonder why you haven't kissed yet. you want it, he wants it. why hasn't happened yet?

bunnyiglesias!boyfriend who hadn't planned on kissing you in front of your dad, but the opportunity was practically perfect. there was no point in ignoring each other's feelings anymore, not when gestures and looks spoke louder than words. it was the perfect moment

"follow me" he says taking your hand, and even though not convinced, you follow him "what do you want to do now?" you ask, but the only thing that appears before your eyes is your father. bunny stops for a moment perplexed, tilting his head "lavi? why are you here?" asks the boy, who unbeknownst to you had checked which of the fields were free at that time. lavinho shrugs, approaching with the ball in his hand "training. and you? what are you doing with my daughter here?" he asks smirking, because out of all of them he's the one who's most waiting for you two to admit that you love each other. bunny clears his throat, masking his anxiety with his usual little smile "oh... i had to do something... wait. you know what? i need you"

you remain confused, not knowing how to react "what do you have in mind?" you ask crossing your arms, extremely perplexed. lavinho imitates you, staying a few steps away while bunny takes a few steps back "senhor lavinho, acho que estou extremamente apaixonado pela sua filha" he says, his pronunciation is a bit bad, but his words immediately reach your heart loud and clear. you look at him covering your mouth, surprised "no way" you say excited, a bit from what he told you and especially for the fact that he said it in your native language. he takes your hand, kissing the back of it "posso ser teu namorado?" he says, his voice a little shaky

before he can even ask you or your father anything else, you close your arms around his neck so you can kiss him. bunny catches you, kissing you back while holding you up with his hands on your waist, eliminating the height difference issue. it's a sweet, messy kiss, but it feels like a release after that situationship limbo you've been living in for months. you smile satisfied as you kiss him, almost ignoring your father behind

"at least he had the decency to man up and ask you"

[writeformesinpie]

Love Bound

Heeseung x Fem!Reader 

Summary - You shouldn’t have tried to escape. 

Genre - Yandere

Warnings - Suggestive, yandere themes, dub-con elements, restraints, handcuffs, implied kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, training, gaslighting, toxic relationship

Word Count - 1.1K

A/N - This is part of the 2k follower event from this request. I hope you like it and thank you for the request! 🥰

Struggling against the cool metal you twist your wrists back and forth, pulling your thumb and pinky finger together to try and push your hands through the biting grip of the handcuffs. It’s useless. They aren’t the toys you’re used to playing with.

The bed is comfortable, down bedding and egyptian cotton, but your arms held up above your head makes it hard to do anything except think. Which is what he wants.

There’s nothing else in the room besides a dresser and a little side table which you can’t reach even when you strain against the cuff and jut your leg out towards it. There’s nothing to use as leverage. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

What had he said? Something about knowing your place? Then he left you to sit and wait for him like a dog. The only light in the room is that from the small bulb, behind the corner which leads up to the main part of the house, that illuminates the area enough to see monsters in the shadows.

The temperature is perfect, exactly where you need it for the cute little matching set of pyjamas he made you wear. Silk shorts and a lacy camisole. Black with a spicy red trim. The material drapes across your skin, hugging it like an old friend.

It makes your skin crawl knowing he picked it out specifically for you. What did the clerk at the store think when he was browsing for it? Let’s be serious, she probably wished he was buying it for her.

Heeseung is the type of guy who knows how to garner attention, his stunning looks and the way he holds himself demands it. Not to mention he oozes money. Women love that. It’s not that he’s necessarily a fashionista, it’s just so very easy to look good when you have money. Not that he even needs to try. He always looks good. It’s maddening.

The click of a door closing echos out down the hallway outside the room, followed by light steps padding down the stairs letting you know he’s back before he rounds the corner. His face is in shadow until he flicks on the light. He’s holding a water bottle, the liquid inside a putrid green brown mix. Black jeans and a white shirt. He’s keeping it simple today. Is it the weekend?

“How are you feeling?” he asks, crossing the room and setting the bottle on the nightstand.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” Raising a brow you jangle the cuffs together. “When are you going to let me go?”

“I want to.”

“Then do it. You can release me right now.”

“I would like that,” he says, sliding across the bed, his long limbs bringing him next to you in quick succession. Crawling across your lap he wraps his arms around you, a smile on his face. It’s calming. You don’t like to admit it but his smile can light up a room. “If I could trust you, if I knew you wouldn’t try to escape again, I'd let you go right this instant.”

“Then do it. What’s stopping you?”

“Do you think I like to keep you tied up down here?” He sits up, his face devoid of emotion. When you shrug he continues, “I’m doing this because you need to learn where you belong.”

“I belong here. I belong with you,” you whisper, holding back the anger that threatens to erupt from within. He stares at you for a moment before his smile returns. Sliding down he nuzzles his head in your lap. “I won’t leave.”

“I could stay here forever.”

“I want to touch you, Hee. Let me use my arms,” you plead, swaying your arms back and forth against the headboard. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Mmm,” he hums, his eyes closed. “Let me rest a little longer. It’s been a long day.”

Scrunching your fists up into little balls you stab your knees into his side alternatively back and forth until he rolls off. His eyes are wide for a moment before they narrow. Pinning you down, his knees on either side of your hips, his fingers dig into your jaw tilting your chin up to look at him.

“This is why I can’t let you go. You haven’t learnt a thing.”

Your scowl is quickly morphed into a grimace as his fingers bore deeper into your skin before he pulls your face to his, his lips on yours in an instant. You bite into his lip. Hard. His fingers dig even further into your skin and you worry he might puncture through the skin as you cry out from the pain. The metallic taste of blood drips into your mouth as his tongue slides against yours with tentative daps. Testing the waters, or rather testing you. If you bite him again, who knows what he’ll do.

Tears spring at the corners of your eyes as you think how much you used to love the man in front of you, how much you maybe still do. If he didn’t have this need to possess you, to own you, the spell he created for you would never have broken. You would be oblivious to his true intentions and wouldn’t that be better than this?

“Heeseung, please,” you whisper the words between kisses, his soft lips melting into yours and you almost forget the reason you’re so angry at him. Almost. If it wasn’t for the throbbing pain in your arms, in your wrists. “Please.”

“What, baby?” he murmurs against your neck as he kisses down your jaw.

“Please. At least let one arm go. I can’t feel them anymore. I’m scared.” You let the tears tumble forth to punctuate the point. “I won’t try to leave. I promise, Hee. I don’t want to lose my arms. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

He pulls back and for a moment and you think he’s going to leave before he slides across to the small table next to the bed. Pulling out the key he leans down next to you and whispers, “You best not try anything, sweetheart. Because you won’t like what happens if you do.”

“I won’t.”

You won’t. Not this time.

The click of the handcuffs releasing you from their inflexible grip leaves you with a sense of relief. A smile creeps across your features as you pull your hands to your chest, twisting them a few times before you rub at the marks the restraints left on them.

“Your poor wrists,” he says, kissing the red line around them. “Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[thewitchblue]

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Tim asked, hurt. His own twin was hiding a secret lair. How did you even build this thing with nobody noticing? He felt betrayed. You mumbled while searching for a way to get the entire family out of your lair,

"It was the only thing I can call my own without needing to sibling tax half of it."

That hurt Tim even more because it's true. Everything you two have and everything you both do is together or split between you two. That's not always a bad thing, but it's nice to have something not tied to Tim for once in your life. You both work together better than anybody else and even suffer when apart in a lot of aspects, but you desperately need some autonomy, and so does Tim.

"We could have done so much illegal stuff in here, idiot."

Tim said, and just like that, the tension between you two broke. You ran towards him as he opened his arms to hug you.

"That's your fault that you brought them with you, stupid."

Your muffle voice said, officially smothering yourself into Tim's chest. Tim scoffed as he pulled you into a tighter embrace. How was he supposed to know this totally evil looking tower would be yours? You disabled all of your trackers and even cut out the one Tim thought he was subtle in injecting. He's certain you injected one into him, so he figured fair is fair.

"How did you even find the tracker I put in you? I placed it right next to your femoral artery. You could have died."

You smirked. The tracker wasn't small enough. He was an idiot not to put it into the artery itself like you did. There would be no way to cut it out because it was constantly moving inside his body. You said happily,

"I didn't, though!"

Tim rolled his eyes. Fine. You always were mechanically gifted. All of their newer tech was made by you and your brilliant brain. Who even thinks about half of the gear they have on them? You came up with nanotechnology specifically to track Tim. Who else would go that far just for Tim? It's saved him from many villains, but it's borderline insane and completely uncalled for. The worst part is that he hasn't found the device that displayed his specific tracking information. If he could, he would just take whatever device with him.

The device is actually inside your middle finger because it is hilarious to you. Screw Tim and his sneakiness. You're joining him or tracking his every movement when you do find out about him sneaking off.

Nobody should have given the twins access to unlimited resources. They just find ways to make the other's life slightly better or worse. It's straight up warfare, and it's a game the family can only watch helplessly and sigh. Why is Tim making shape-shifting tech? Because he wants to see what embarrassing things you tell your best friend to blackmail you with, of course! Why are you implementing malware in Tim's grapple gun? Because it's hilarious to see Tim flail mid-air, and you found the perfect spot on his patrol route to trigger the malfunction. You caught him, of course, but you made sure to call him a moron before fixing it as if it wasn't entirely your fault for fabricating the situation.

It's comical, yet also horrifying. You team up when someone gets in your way or, worse, hurt one of the two.

Jason learned that the hard way when he woke up in a warehouse chained to Joker with a shock collar around his neck to prevent him from either of them from leaving the warehouse. One of them was going to die (again), and you simply watched in the corner. The only words you said were,

"For Titan's Tower."

He already felt bad about it before the Joker chaining, but he learned a valuable lesson that day. Don't touch Tim, or he'll regret it.

Dick learned by listening in when Tim started reminiscing about the time you planted a homemade pipe bomb and called the bomb squad on the person. You recalled fondly as Dick looked at both of you with horror,

"He's still in prison on federal charges."

Tim laughed. Laughed. Dick was terrified for not only his life, but what if his cop buddies found out? His twin siblings could go to federal prison! On multiple charges! He had to walk away when you started talking about the time Tim put a secret switch in someone's backpack that blew up their entire house.

"The best part was that I managed to place her fingerprints on the switch!"

May the villains rest in peace if they kidnap one of the twins and not the other. Tim is not above committing war crimes, and neither are you. Who is the public really going to believe? The hero Red Robin amputated Poison Ivy's leg for daring to put mysterious powder on you or that some farmer mistook her leg for a weed and cut it off accidentally?

Only the villains will ever know. They are terrified of the twins and especially terrified of how aggressive Red Robin becomes when the Wayne brat gets kidnapped. You once got sold to someone in Metropolis, and Red Robin still showed up, furious and ready for war. Villains gossip and think you are dating him, which is venomous denied. You have ruined multiple lives when Jason cackled about seeing people shipping you with Red Robin.

"Send me the fanfic."

You demanded in a threatening tone. Not even Tim could qualm your rage. You found the writer and the owner of the website it was written on. You found everything about them and systematically destroyed their lives to the point the website owner sold it, but you kept going until someone finally deleted the website entirely.

"Nobody touches my brother."

You said in an interview when you were officially adopted. You made it sound playful until the interviewer asked,

"Aw, you mean your new brothers?"

You side-eyed Tim, but you bit your tongue when he subtly shook his head. Don't fight the interviewer so soon. Back them into a corner first. So you waited like a bear trap. For just the right time to snap their legs. The trap never did end up happening, however, as there was no more disrespect towards Tim and your relationship as siblings.

"Tim is my best friend and the best part of my life, but I'll give my new brothers a shot at becoming any better."

The interviewer made sure to take lots of photos of you both hanging off one another with matching grins that immortalised your love for each other. Nobody will dare get in the way of the siblings. You both are ready for war at any point of time with scary creativity and now unlimited resources. May the gods have mercy on their souls. The Batfamily was not ready for the devasting duo.

[nerdyscouttribute]

First Look (Modern Au Smoke x Annie)

Summary:Smoke see's Annie for the first time at the club

Warning: none ,just something cute and short

An: I might come back and add more to this ,but I just wanted to get it out my mind, so it's a little rushed. I got the idea from @partylikemajima

“Man, why you brought me here?”Smoke said. Irritation was written all over his face,as Stack was dragging him through the loud club. Lights flashing everywhere, people skin to skin dancing, drinks in hand. Music blasting through the speakers.

We said now drop it like a thottie, pop it like a thottie

Church girls acting loose, bad girls acting snotty

Let it go, girl-let it out, girl

“You too damn stuck up,need to get you a girl to dance with”, Stack said , a wide smile on his face.

Before Smoke could say anything back Stack said"I'm about to talk with a few people I see, I'll be back”. Walking off leaving an irritated Smoke standing in the middle of the club.

If he was going to make it through the night, he needed some liquor in his system. Fighting through the crowd to get to the bar. “Aye get me old fashioned”, Smoke said to the bartender.

He hated environments like this. Too loud , and too musty. Seeing the bartender set his drink down , he passed her the money ,and turned to look over the club.

Surveying the area, looking for exits -incase shit popped off. That's when his eyes froze on her . She was in a white corset that put her breast in the perfect view. A brown skirt that hugged her in all the right places.

She was dancing in the middle of her friends. Bending over as they hyped her up. Smoke was too caught up in staring at her that he didn't notice Stack standing next to him.

“Damn, you staring hard nigga”, Stack said laughing , snapping Smoke out of his trance.

“Nah just looking”, Smoke said , but it wasn't true. He wanted to know more about her , what her name is , maybe if it sounded good with his last name.

“ oh so you wouldn't mind if I went to talk to her”, A sly smirk set on Stacks face. Smoke shot a glare towards Stack,” Nah, don't go bothering her”.

But that went to deaf ears ,as Stack still made his way towards her.

———————————

Annie was having fun for the first time in a while. She was stressed with running her restaurant, she hadn't taken time to hang out with her friends. So when they called ,she answered,no questions asked.

She had few drinks in her , cause that was the only way her friends were going to get her to dance like this. Her hips moving wild , ass moving right along with every movement.

Until , he walked up trying to get her attention. She was trying to ignore him , but her friends weren't trying to do the same. “ What you want”, Grace said ,raising her eyebrow at Stack. “I wanted to know if your friend right there wanted to dance with my brother “, Stack said as he pointed at Annie. She didn't even get a chance to answer for herself when Pearline spoke up,”what does he look like”? “ Just like me ,but I'm cuter” , Stack said with a smirk on his face.

“ Mmm-go get him”, Mary said, eyeing Stack up and down. Stack said he'll be back , before running off. Annie spoke, reminding them she had a voice, “ how y'all gonna decide for me “.

“Girl you need to get you some ,and he might just be right for the job”, Pearline said.

—————————————

Smoke watched the whole thing. How she didn't speak ,but observed. Stack ran back over to him , once again a big smile set on his face. “If she says no you got three other girls to choose from”, Stack said trying to convince Smoke to follow him. Smoke didn't agree with that statement ,but he followed anyway .

Making it to where the girls were standing ,he kept his eyes zoned in on her , the one whose hair was pulled out her face. Letting him get a view of her big brown eyes, pouty lips,as she stared back at him.

Stack talked first as always, “ This my brother Smoke”. All the girls introduced themselves to him , saying their name . That's when she walked up. Gold heels adorning her feet. Making her eye level with him. When she spoke Elijah thought the time froze. “ I'm Annie , what's your name”, she said in a soft voice. It sounded so sultry to Smoke.

He didn't know how she did it ,but she got him to reveal his birth name with only one sentence. “Elijah”, he said almost breathless.

“We'll you wanna dance Elijah, this my favorite song”, Annie said head tilted to the side. He didn't respond, just held his hand out for her to take.

He forgot about everyone else, just wanted to have her near him.

So this must be something special

'Cause you could be anywhere you wanted

But you decided to be here with me

No coincidence, it was meant to be

Don't be shy, come let your boy get in

So you can tell all of your friends

Annie turned around in his arms. Swaying back and forth. His arms gripping around her waist, a bit tighter. Moving side to side with her.

Annie tilted her head back on his shoulder, breath hitting his neck. It made Elijah shudder, grabbing her hip bringing them even closer.

She knew what she was doing, and she wanted him to loosen up. Grinding back on him harder, left arm reaching back to grip the back of his neck to lean down. He allowed her to bring his head down into her neck.

Lips hitting her soft brown skin. Leaving soft kisses until he got near her ear. “You know you can capture someone's attention in a crowded room”?. A smile appeared on her face. Lifting her head up to turn around in his arms.

Arms now resting on his shoulders, his arms resting around her waist. “No I didn't know that, I just came to have fun with my girlfriends”.

“Well I'm sorry for my brother, for interrupting yall night”, Smoke said. He wasn't really sorry, he was glad his brother had the courage to do what he couldn't . “It's alright I want to get to know you more Elijah”.